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HE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS FROM THIS 
WORLD TO THAT WHICH IS 1 
COME. DELIVERED UNDER THE 
SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM . . . . 



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JOHN BUNYAN. 



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NEW YORK: 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO., 

46 East Fourteenth Stfjeet. 



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Copyright, 1S92, 

BY 

T. Y. CROWELL & CO. 



THE LIFE 



THE REV. JOHN BUNYAN. 



The Rev. John Bunyan, the celebrated author of 
The Pilgrim's Progress, and many other useful 
works, was born at Elstow, near Bedford, England, in 
the year 1628. 

His parents were very poor, but gave him the best 
education in their power. Such, however, was his 
extreme depravity, that he addicted himself, even in 
childhood, to the basest practices, particularly to curs- 
ing and swearing, in which he exceeded the worst of 
his wicked companions, and arrived at such a sad pre- 
eminence in sin, that he became the ringleader of the 
profane. 

Yet, amidst all these enormities, God left not him- 
self without a witness in his bosom. He had many 
severe checks of conscience, and terrifying thoughts 
of hell. Afjer days spent in sin, his dreams were 
sometimes peculiarly frightful. The fears of death and 
judgment intruded into his gayest hours. A copious 
narrative of these early conflicts and crimes is to be 
found in his treatise entitled, "Grace abounding to 
the Chief of Sinners." 

3 



4 THE LIFE OF 

The Lord was also pleased to grant him several 
remarkable deliverances from death. Once he fell into 
the river Ouse ; at another time he fell into the sea, and 
narrowly escaped being drowned. When he was seven- 
teen years of age he became a soldier ; and, at the siege 
of Leicester, being called out to stand sentinel, another 
desired to take his place ; he consented, and his com- 
rade, who took his place, was shot through the head 
with a musket-ball. 

But neither mercies nor judgments made any durable 
impression on his hardened heart. He was not only 
insensible of the evil and danger of sin, but an enemy 
to 'everything serious. The thought of religion, or the 
very appearance of it in others, was an intolerable bur- 
den to him. 

The first step toward his reformation was his mar- 
riage with a woman whose parents were accounted re- 
ligious. Being extremely poor, she had brought him, 
as her whole portion, two books, " The Practice of 
Piety "and "The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven." 
In these they sometimes read together ; and his wife 
often talked to him of the godly life of her father. 
By these means, and especially in consequence of 
hearing a sermon against Sabbath-breaking, he formed 
some resolutions of reformation, and of performing a 
few religious duties, which he then thought would be 
enough to carry him to Heaven. His convictions 
were not, however, sufficient to keep him from his be- 
loved sports, even in the afternoon of that. Sabbath on 
which he had received them, when, being engaged in 
a game, a sentence was impressed on his mind so for- 
cibly that he thought it like a voice from Heaven, 
" Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to Heaven, or have 
thy sins and go to Hell 7" This excited dreadful con- 



THE REV. JOHN BUNYAN. 5 

sternation in his mind, which was instantly followed 
by suggestions that he was an enormous unparalleled 
sinner — that it was now too late to seek after Heaven 
— and that his transgressions were beyond the reach 
of mercy. Despair reached his mind, and he formed 
this desperate conclusion — that he must be miserable 
if he left his sins, and miserable if he continued in his 
sins ; and therefore he determined to take his fill of 
them, as the only pleasure he was likely to have. It 
may justly be feared that multitudes perish by such 
temptations as these. Their language is, "There is 
no hope — but we will walk after our own devices, and 
we will every one do the imagination of his evil 
heart.' 1 

Contriving how to gratify himself with sin, yet de- 
riving no satisfaction from it, he continued about a 
month longer ; when it pleased God to give him 
another severe check by means of a woman, who, 
though a notorious sinner herself, was so shocked at 
the oaths he uttered, that she told him "he was the 
most ungodly fellow for swearing that she had ever 
seen in her life, and that he was enough to spoil all 
the youth in the town, if they came into his company." 
By this reproof, from such a person, he was entirely 
confounded ; and from that moment he refrained, in 
general, from swearing, though, before, he scarcely 
ever spoke a sentence without an oath. 

About this time he had several remarkable dreams, 
in which he thought that the earth shook and opened 
her mouth to receive him — that the end of the world 
and the day of judgment were arrived. Once he 
dreamed that he was just dropping into the flames 
among the damned, and that a person in white shining 
raiment suddenly plucked him as a brand out of the 



6 THE LIFE OF 

fire. These dreams made impressions on his mind 
which were never forgotten, and perhaps inclined him, 
many years after, to publish the masterpiece of all his 
works, The Pilgrim's Progress, under the similitude 
of a dream. 

Soon after, he fell into the company of a poor, seri- 
ous man, whose discourses of religion and of the 
Scriptures so affected him, that he applied himself to 
reading the Bible, especially the historical parts of it. 

By degrees a reformation of manners took place, 
which became so remarkable, that his neighbors were 
greatly surprised at it, and often complimented him 
upon it. By these commendations he was greatly 
puffed up with pride, and began to think himself a very 
good Christian, and, to use his own words, " that no 
man in England could please God better than he." 
But all this was only lopping off the branches of sin, 
while the root of an unregenerated nature still re- 
mained. With much difficulty, and by slow degrees, 
he refrained from his accustomed diversions of dancing 
and ringing ; he relinquished the latter from the appre- 
hension that one of the bells, or even the steeple, 
might fall and crush him to death. But hitherto he 
remained ignorant of Christ, and was going about to 
establish his own righteousness. He was still of that 
generation " who are pure in their own eyes, and yet 
not washed from their filthiness. 11 

Not long after, the providence of God so ordered it, 
that he went to work at Bedford, and happening to 
hear some women, who were sitting at a door, talk 
about the things of God, his curiosity induced him to 
listen to them, but he soon found their conversation 
above his reach. They were speaking of the new birth, 
and the work of God on their hearts — how they were 



THE REV. JOHN BUNYAN. 7 

convinced of their miserable state by nature — how 
God had visited their souls with his love in Christ 
Jesus ; with what promises they had been refreshed, 
comforted, and supported under affliction and tempta- 
tions. They also talked of the wretchedness of their 
own hearts, and of their unbelief — of renouncing their 
own works and righteousness, as insufficient to justify 
them before God. All this appeared to be spoken in 
such spiritual language, in such a serious manner, and 
with such an air of Christian joy and cheerfulness, that 
he seemed like one who had found a new world. 

This conversation was of great service to him. He 
now saw that his case was not so good as he had 
fondly imagined ; that among all his thoughts of reli- 
gion, the grand essential of it— the new birth — had 
never entered his mind — that he had never derived 
comfort from the promises of God — that he had never 
known the plague of his own heart, having never 
taken notice of his secret thoughts — and that he was 
entirely unacquainted with Satan's temptations and the 
way to resist them. He therefore frequented the com- 
pany of those persons, to obtain information ; his mind 
became constantly intent upon gaining spiritual knowl- 
edge, and his whole soul was so fixed on eternal things, 
that it was difficult to draw his mind from heaven to 
earth. He now began to read his Bible, as it were 
with new eyes ; it became inexpressibly sweet and 
pleasant to him, because it held forth a Saviour whom 
he now felt the want of. Reading, meditation, and 
prayer to understand the Scriptures, were the employ- 
ments in which he delighted. 

Now the enemy of souls assaulted him with his temp- 
tations. One of the principal was, whether he was 
elected or not? But it pleased God to relieve him, by 



8 THE LIFE OF 

the application of that Scripture, " Look at the gener- 
ations of old, and see, did ever any trust in God and 
were confounded ? " This gave him much encourage- 
ment, as if it had been said, " Begin at Genesis, and 
read to the end of the Revelation, and try if you can 
find any that ever trusted in God and were confounded ; 
and if none that trusted in God ever miscarried, then 
your duty is to trust in God, and not to concern your- 
self about election, which is a secret thing." 

Another temptation that violently assaulted him, 
was, " How if the day of grace should be past and 
gone?" But after many days spent in bitterness of 
spirit, he was relieved by that blessed word, " Compel 
them to come in, that my house may be filled ; " and 
" yet there is room." 

Many more were his temptations, of which the 
reader may find a large account in his " Grace abound- 
ing" above referred to. But the Lord, who knows 
how to deliver the godly out of temptation, was pleased 
to deliver him out of all his spiritual distresses, and 
to fill his soul with joy and peace in believing. 

To this happy event, under the blessing of the 
Holy Spirit, the conversation he had with experienced 
Christians, and the valuable labors of Mr. Gilford, then 
Minister of the Gospel at Bedford, were chiefly condu- 
cive. When twenty-seven years of age, Mr. Bunyan 
joined a congregation of pious Christians at Bedford. 
His natural abilities, eminent grace, and the remarka- 
ble temptations he had experienced, soon pointed him 
out as a proper person for the ministry. Curiosity 
\naturally excited multitudes to attend his preaching, 
and he soon found that his labors were not in vain 
in the Lord. 

Such were his diffidence and modesty, that at first he 



THE REV. JOHN BUNYAN. 9 

thought it incredible that God should speak to the 
hearts of sinners by his means. But he was encour- 
aged by many seals of his ministry. His views of the 
work, and his method in it, deserve notice and imita- 
tion. The Lord gave him much compassion for per- 
ishing sinners. He studied with great diligence to find 
out such words as might awaken the conscience, exhibit 
Christ in all his infinite fulness, and show the sinner 
that, except in his precious atonement, there is no 
salvation. 

" In my preaching," says he, " the Lord did lead me 
to begin where his word begins, with sinners ; to con- 
demn all flesh, and to open and allege that the curse 
of God doth lay hold on all men, as they come into the 
world, because of sin. This part of my work I fulfilled 
with the terrors of the law, and guilt for my own trans- 
gressions lying heavy on my conscience. I went myself 
in chains, to preach to them in chains ; and carried that 
fire in my own conscience, of which I persuaded them 
to beware. I have gone full of a sense of guilt and 
terror, even to the pulpit door, and there it hath been 
taken off, and I have been at liberty in my mind until 
I have done my work, and then immediately it has re- 
turned as heavily as before ; yet God carried me on, and 
surely with a strong hand, for neither guilt nor hell could 
take me off my work. 

"Thus I went on for the space of two years; after 
which the Lord came in upon my soul with some sure 
peace and comfort through Christ, giving me many 
sweet discoveries of his blessed grace. And I did much 
labor to hold forth Jesus Christ in all his offices, rela- 
tions, and benefits, unto the world : and did strive also 
to discover, to condemn, and to remove, those false 
supports on which the world lean, and by depending 
on them, fall and perish. 



10 THE LIFE OF 

" When I have been preaching, my heart hath often, 
all the time of this and the other exercises, with great 
earnestness, cried to God that he would make the word 
effectual to salvation : wherefore I did labor so to speak 
as that thereby, if possible, the sin, and the person 
guilty, might be particularized. And when I have done 
the exercise, it hath gone to my heart to think the 
word should now fall as rain on stony places ; still 
wishing, ' O that they who have heard me did but see 
as I do, what sin, and death, and hell, and the curse 
of God, are ! and what the grace, and love, and mercy 
of God are, through Christ, to men who are yet es- 
tranged from him.' And indeed I did often say in my 
heart before the Lord, that if to be hanged up pres- 
ently before their eyes would be a means of awakening 
them and confirming them in the truth I could gladly 
consent to it. 

"I never cared to meddle with unimportant points 
which were in dispute among the saints, yet it pleased 
me much to contend with great earnestness for the 
word of faith, and the remission of sins by the suffer- 
ings and death of Jesus. I saw my work before me did 
run in another channel, even to carry the awakening 
word ; to that, therefore, I did adhere. 

" If any of those who were awakened by my ministry 
fell back, I can truly say, that their loss hath been more 
to me than if my own child had been going to its 
grave. My heart hath been so wrapped up in the glory 
of this excellent work, that I counted myself more 
blessed and honored by it, than if God had made me 
emperor of the Christian world, or the lord of all the 
glory of the earth, without it. Oh, these words, ' He 
that converteth a sinner from the error of his way doth 
save a soul from death ; ' ' They that be wise shall 



THE REV. JOHN BUNYAN. II 

shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they 
that turn many to righteousness, as the stars, for ever 
and ever;' Jam. v. 20, Dan. xii. 3; these, with many 
others of a like nature, have been refreshments to me. 

"My great desire, in fulfilling my ministry, was to 
get into the darkest places of the country, because I 
found my spirit leaned most after awakening and con- 
verting work : and the word that I carried did lean 
itself most that way also ; ' Yea, so have I strived to 
preach the Gospel, not where Christ was named, lest I 
should build on another man's foundation.' " Rom. 
xv. 20. 

This fidelity excited many enemies ; and the time in 
which he lived being a time of persecution for con- 
science' sake, he was thrown into prison, and there 
continued, in the whole, for twelve years. 

He was enabled to bear this tedious imprisonment 
patiently. The Lord was very gracious to him. " I 
never had, 11 he said, while in prison, " in all my life, 
so great an insight into the word of God as now. Those 
Scriptures which I saw nothing in before, are made, in 
this place and state, to shine upon me. I have had 
sweet sights of the forgiveness of my sins, and of my 
being with Jesus in another world. ' O, the Mount 
Sion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable company 
of angels, and God the judge of all, and the spirits of 
just men made perfect, 1 and Jesus, have been sweet 
unto me in this place ! 1 have seen that here, which I 
am persuaded I shall never, while in this world, be able 
to express. I have seen a truth in the words, ' Whom 
having not seen, ye love ; in whom, though now ye see 
him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable 
and full of glory. 111 

The thoughts of his afflicted family would sometimes 



12 THE LIFE OF 

press upon his mind, especially the case of one of his 
four children, who was blind. Mr. Bunyan was a man 
of strong affections, a tender husband, and a very 
indulgent parent. But he was supported under this 
affliction by these two Scriptures, " Leave thy fatherless 
children, I will preserve them alive ; and let thy widows 
trust in me. 1 ' The Lord said. " Verily it shall be well 
with thy remnant ; verily I will cause the enemy to en- 
treat thee well in the time of evil. 1 ' 

He was not idle during his long and severe confine- 
ment, but diligently studied his Bible, which, with the 
Book of Martyrs, composed his whole library. His own 
hands also ministered to the necessity of his indigent 
family ; but he was still more usefully employed in 
preaching to all who could gain access to the jail, and 
with a spirit and a power that surprised his hearers. 

It was here also that he composed several useful 
treatises, especially The Pilgrim's Progress, a book 
which has done as much good, perhaps, as any other, 
except the Bible ; and by writing which, he has prob- 
ably been more useful than if he had enjoyed the unre- 
strained exercise of his public ministry. In composing 
it, he was evidently favored with a peculiar measure of 
the Divine assistance. Within the confines of a jail, he 
was able so to delineate the Christian's course, with its 
various difficulties, perils, and conflicts, that scarcely 
anything seems to have escaped his notice. The most 
accurate observer will hardly find one character, either 
good or bad, or one fatal delusion, or injurious mistake, 
which is not essentially pointed out in the Pilgrim's 
Progress. The book suits all the various descriptions 
of persons who profess godliness, and relates the experi- 
ence, temptations, conflicts, supports, and consolations 
of Christians in our own times, as exactly as if it had been 



THE REV. JOHN BUNYAN. 1 3 

penned for their own immediate benefit. Cowper has 
spoken of this book and its author in the following 
manner : 

" O thou, whom, borne on fancy's eager wing 

Back to the season of life's happy spring, 

I pleased remember, and while mem'ry yet 

Holds fast her office here, can ne'er forget. 

Ingenious dreamer, in whose well-told tale, 

Sweet fiction and sweet truth alike prevail ; 

Whose hum'rous vein, strong sense, and simple style 

May teach the gayest, make the gravest smile ; 

Witty, and well employed, and like thy Lord, 

Speaking in parables his slighted word. 

I name thee not, lest so despised a name 

Should move a sneer at thy deserved fame ; 

Yet e'en in transitory life's late day, 

That mingles all my brown with sober gray, 

Revere the man whose Pilgrim marks the road, 

And guides the Progress of the soul to God." 

The narrative is so entertaining, that the heart 
becomes interested in the event of every transaction ; 
ministers may draw from it the most valuable instruction, 
as a text-book to be used in their private meetings ; 
and parents may with great advantage select portions of 
it to be read and explained to their children. 

After the Lord had accomplished what he had 
designed in the works written by this man of God in 
his dreary solitude, he at length disposed Dr. Barlow, 
then Bishop of Lincoln, and others, to pity his unde- 
served sufferings, and to interest themselves in procur- 
ing his enlargement. 

His active spirit soon improved the liberty afforded 
him ; he visited the people of God in several places, 
especially the afflicted, tempted, and persecuted, to 
whom he was now well qualified to speak a word in 



14 THE LIFE OF 

season. He took this opportunity of paying his grate- 
ful acknowledgments to his friends, whose kind assist- 
ance he had experienced in prison ; and as occasion 
offered, he preached the Gospel with great boldness 
and acceptance, particularly to the congregation at 
Bedford, of whom he was now chosen minister. 

Amidst all his popularity and success, he was kept 
humble and was seldom or never known to speak of 
himself. His whole behavior was exemplary, so that 
malice herself has not been able to find, even on the 
closest inspection, a single stain on his reputation and 
moral character. 

His valuable life, worn out with sufferings, age, and 
ministerial labors, was closed with a memorable act of 
Christian charity. He was well known under the 
blessed character of a peace-maker. He was therefore 
desired, by a young gentleman in the neighborhood of 
Bedford, to interpose as a mediator between him and 
his offended father, who lived at Reading, in Berkshire : 
this friendly business he cheerfully undertook, and 
happily effected. But, in his return to London, being 
overtaken with excessive rain, he came to a friend's on 
Snow Hill, very wet, and was seized with a violent 
fever, the pains of which he bore with great patience, 
resigning himself to the will of God, desiring to be 
called away, that he might be with Christ, looking 
upon life as a delay of that blessedness to which his 
soul was aspiring, and after which it was thirsting. In 
this holy, longing frame of spirit, after a sickness of 
ten days, he breathed out his soul into the hands of 
his blessed Redeemer, August 12, 1688, aged 60. 

His natural abilities were remarkably great; his 
fancy and invention uncommonly fertile. His wit was 
sharp and quick, his memory very good, it being cus- 



THE REV. JOHN BUNYAN. I 5 

tomary with him to commit his sermons to writing 
after he had preached them. His works are collected 
in two volumes folio, and contain as many treatises as 
he lived years. His judgment was sound as deep in 
the essential principles of the Gospel, as his writings 
sufficiently evince. His piety and sincerity toward 
God were apparent to all who conversed with him. He 
constantly maintained the God-like principle of love, 
often bewailing that there should be so much division 
among Christians. He was a man of heroic courage, 
resolute for Christ and the Gospel, and bold in reprov- 
ing sin, both in public and private ; yet mild, conde- 
scending, and affable to all. Thus lived and died a 
man, in whose character, conduct, and usefulness, that 
Scripture was remarkably verified, " Ye see your call- 
ing, brethren, how that not many wise men after the 
flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called ; 
but God hath chosen the foolish things of the w r orld to 
confound the wise — that no flesh should glory in his 
presence." 



THE 
AUTHOR'S APOLOGY FOR HIS BOOK. 



When at the first I took my pen in hand 
Thus for to write, I did not understand 
That I at all should make a little book 
In such a mode ; nay, I had undertook 
To make another; which, when almost done, 
Before I was aware I this begun. 

And thus it was : I writing of the way 
And race of saints, in this our gospel-day, 
Fell suddenly into an allegory 
About their journey, and the way to glory, 
In more than twenty things which I sat down : 
This done, I twenty more had in my crown ; 
And they again began to multiply, 
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly. 
Nay, then thought I, if that you breed so fast 
I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last 
Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out 
The book that I already am about. 
Well, so I did ; but yet I did not think 
To show to all the world my pen and ink 

17 



l8 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 

In such a mode ; I only thought to make 
I knew not what : nor did I undertake 
Thereby to please my neighbor : no, not I ; 
I did it my own self to gratify. 

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend 
In this my scribble : nor did I intend 
But to divert myself in doing this, 
From worser thoughts, which make me do amiss. 
Thus I set pen to paper with delight, 
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white. 
For having now my method by the end, 
Still, as I puird, it came : and so I penn'd 
It down : until it came at last to be, 
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see. 

Well, when I had thus put mine ends together, 
I show'd them others, that I might see whether 
They would condemn them, or them justify : 
And some said, Let them live ; some, Let them die. 
Some said, John, print it ; others said, Not so ; 
Some said, It might do good ; others said, No. 

Now was I in a strait, and did not see 
Which was the best thing to be done by me : 
At last I thought, Since ye are thus divided, 
I print it will ; and so the case decided. 

For, thought I, some I see would have it done 
Though others in that channel do not run : 
To prove, then who advised for the best, 
Thus I thought fit to put it to the test. 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGV. 19 

I further thought, if now I did deny 
Those that would have it, thus to gratify ; 
I did not know, but hinder them I might 
Of that which would to them be great delight. 
For those which were not for its coming forth, 
I said to them, Offend you I am loth : 
Yet since your brethren pleased with it be, 
Forbear to judge, till you do further see. 

If that thou wilt not read, let it alone ; 
Some love the meat, some love to pick the bone, 
Yea, that I might them better palliate, 
I did too with them thus expostulate : 

May I not write in such a style as this ? 
In such a method too, and yet not miss 
My end — thy good? Why may it not be done? 
Dark clouds, bring waters when the bright bring none. 
Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops 
Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops, 
Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either, 
But treasures up the fruit they yield together ; 
Yea, so commixes both, thaj in their fruit 
None can distinguish this from that ; they suit 
Her well when hungry ; but if she be full, 
She spews out both, and makes their blessing null. 

You see the ways the fisherman doth take 
To catch the fish ; what engines doth he make ! 
Behold how he engageth all his wits ; 
Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets ; 
Yet fish there be, that neither hook nor line, 
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine : 
They must be grop'd for, and be tickled too, 
Or they will not be catclvd, whate'er you do. 



20 THE AUTHORS APOLOGV. 

How does the fowler seek to catch his game? 
By divers means ! all which one cannot name : 
His guns, his nets, his lime-twigs, light, and bell : 
He creeps, he goes, he stands ; yea, who can tell 
Of all his postures? Yet there's none of these 
Will make him master of what fowls he please. 
Yea, he must pipe and whistle, to catch this ; 
Yet if he does so, that bird he will miss. 
If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell, 
And may be found too in an oyster-shell ; 
If things that promise nothing do contain 
What better is than gold ; who will disdain, 
That have an inkling of it, there to look, 
That they may find it? Now my little book, 
(Though void of all these paintings that may make 
It with this or the other man to take,) 
Is not without those things that do excel 
What do in brave, but empty notions dwell. 

" Well, yet I am not fully satisfied 
That this your book will stand when soundly tried. 1 ' 

Why, what's the matter ? " It is dark." What 
though ? 
" But it is feigned." What of that? I trow 
Some men by feigned words, as dark as mine, 
Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine. 
" But they want solidness." Speak, man, thy mind. 
" They drown the weak ; metaphors make us blind." 

Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen 
Of him that writeth things divine to men : 
But must I needs want solidness, because 
By metaphors I speak? Were not God's laws, 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 

His gospel laws, in olden time held forth 
By types, shadows, and metaphors? Yet loth 
Will any sober man be to find fault 
With them, lest he be found for to assault 
The highest wisdom ! No, he rather stoops, 
And seeks to find out by what pins and loops, 
By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams, 
By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs, 
God speaketh to him ; and happy is he 
That finds the light and grace that in them be. 

Be not too forward therefore to conclude 
That I want solidness — that I am rude : 
All things solid in show not solid be ; 
All things in parable despise not we, 
Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive, 
And things that good are of our souls bereave. 
My dark and cloudy words they do but hold 
The truth, as cabinets inclose the gold. 

The prophets used much by metaphors 
To set forth truth : yea, whoso considers 
Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see, 
That truths to this day in such mantles be. 

Am I afraid to say, that holy writ, 
Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit, 
Is every where so full of all these things, 
Dark figures, allegories? Yet there springs 
From that same book, that lustre, and those rays 
Of light that turns our darkest nights to days. 

Come, let my carper to his life now look, 
And find there darker lines than in my book 
He findeth any ; yea, and let him know, 
That in his best things there are worse lines too. 



22 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 

May we but stand before impartial men, 
To his poor one I durst adventure ten, 
That they will take my meaning in these lines 
Far better than his lies in silver shrines. 
Come, truth, although in swaddling clothes, I find 
Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind ; 
Pleases the understanding, makes the will 
Submit, the memory too it doth fill 
With what doth our imagination please ; 
Likewise it tends our troubles to appease. 

Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use, 
And old wives fables he is to refuse : 
But yet grave Paul him no where doth forbid 
The use of parables ; in which lay hid 
That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were 
Worth digging for, and that with greatest care. 

Let me add one word more. O man of God 
Art thou offended ? Dost thou wish I had 
Put forth my matter in another dress ? 
Or that I had in things been more express ? 
Three things let me propound ; then I submit 
To those that are my betters, as is fit : 

i . I find not that I am denied the use 
Of this my method, so I no abuse 
Put on the words, things, readers, or be rude 
In handling figure or similitude, 
In application ; but all that I may 
Seek the advance of truth this or that way. 
Denied did I say? Nay, I have leave, 
(Example too, and that from them that have 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 23 

God better pleased, by their words or ways, 
Than any man that breatheth nowadays,) 
Thus to express my mind, thus to declare 
Things unto thee that excellentest are. 

2. I find that men as high as trees will write 
Dialogue-wise : yet no man doth them slight 
For writing so : indeed if they abuse 

Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use 
To that intent ; but yet let truth be free 
To make her sallies upon thee and me, 
Which way it pleases God : for who knows how 
Better than he that taught us first to plough, 
To guide our minds and pens for his design? 
And he makes base things usher in divine. 

3. I find that holy writ, in many places, 

Hath semblance with this method, where the cases 
Do call for one thing, to set forth another : 
Use it I may then, and yet nothing smother 
Truth's golden beams : nay, by this method may 
Make it cast forth its rays as light as day. 

And now, before I do put up my pen, 
Til show the profit of my book ; and then 
Commit both thee and it unto that hand 
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand. 

This book it chalketh out before thine eyes 
The man that seeks the everlasting prize : 
It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes, 
What he leaves undone ; also what he does : 
It also shows you how he runs and runs 
Till he unto the gate of glory comes. 



24 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 

It shows, too, who set out for life amain, 
As if the lasting crown they would obtain, 
Here also you may see the reason why 
They lose their labor, and like fools do die. 

This book will make a traveller of thee, 
If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be ; 
It will direct thee to the Holy Land, 
If thou wilt its directions understand : 
Yea, it will make the slothful active be ; 
The blind also delightful things to see. 

Art thou for something rare and profitable ? 
Or wouldst thou see a truth within a fable ? 
Art thou forgetful ? Wouldst thou remember 
From New Year's day to the last of December ? 
Then read my fancies ; they will stick like burs, 
And may be, to the helpless, comforters. 

This book is writ in such a dialect, 
As may the minds of listless men affect ; 
It seems a novelty, and yet contains 
Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains. 

Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy? 
Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly? 
Wouldst thou read riddles, and their explanation? 
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation? 
Dost thou love picking meat? Or wouldst thou see 
A man i 1 the clouds, and hear him speak to thee ? 
Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep? 
Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep? 
Wouldest thou lose thyself and catch no harm, 
And find thyself again without a charm ? 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 25 

Wouldst read thyself, and read thou know'st not 

what 
And yet know whether thou art blest or not, 
By reading the same lines? O then come hither, 
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together. 

John Bunyan. 



THE 

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

IN THE SIMILITUDE OF A DREAM. 



As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I 
lighted on a certain place where was a den, 1 and laid 
me down in that place to sleep ; and as I slept, I dreamed 
a dream. I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man clothed 
with rags standing in a certain place, with his face 
from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great 
burden upon his back, Isa., lxiv., 6; Luke, xiv., 33 ; Ps., 
xxxviii., 4. I looked, and saw him open the book, and 
read therein ; and as he read, he wept and trembled ; 
and not being able longer to contain, he brake out with 
a lamentable cry, saying, "What shall I do? 1 ' Acts, 
ii., 37; xvi., 30; Hab., i., 2, 3. 

In this plight, therefore, he went home, and restrained 
himself as long as he could, that his wife and children 
should not perceive his distress ; but he could not be 
silent long, because that his trouble increased. Where- 
fore at length he brake his mind to his wife and chil- 
dren ; and thus he began to talk to them : " O my dear 
wife/ 1 said he, " and you the children of my bowels, I, 
your dear friend, am in myself undone by reason of a 

1 Bedford jail in which the author was a prisoner for conscience' sake. 
27 



28 THE PILGRIM'S DEPLORABLE CONDITION. 

burden that lieth hard upon me ; moreover, I am cer- 
tainly informed that this our city will be burnt with fire 
from heaven ; in which fearful overthrow, both myself, 
with thee my wife, and you, my sweet babes, shall 
miserably come to ruin, except (the which yet I see not) 
some way of escape ca,7i be found whereby we may be 
delivered. 1 ' At this his relations were sore amazed : 
not for that they believed that what he had said to them 
was true, but because they thought that some frenzy 
distemper had got into his head ; therefore, it drawing 
toward night, and they hoping that sleep might settle 
his brains, with all haste they got him to bed. But the 
night was as troublesome to him as the day ; wherefore, 
instead of sleeping, he spent it in sighs and tears. So 
when the morning was come, they would know how he 
did. He told them " Worse and worse : " he also set 
to talking to them again ; but they began to be har- 
dened. They also thought to drive away his distemper 
by harsh and surly carriage to him : sometimes they 
would deride, sometimes they would chide, and some- 
times they would quite neglect him. Wherefore he 
began to retire himself to his chamber to pray for and 
pity them, and also to condole his own misery ; he 
would also walk solitarily in the fields, sometimes read- 
ing, and sometimes praying : and thus for some days 
he spent his time. 

Now I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the 
fields, that he was (as he was wont) reading in his book, 
and greatly distressed in his mind ; and as he read, he 
burst out, as he had done before, crying, "What shall 
I do to be saved?" Acts, xvi., 30, 31. 

I saw also that he looked this way, and that way, as 
if he would run ; yet he stood still, because (as I per- 
ceived) he could not tell which way to go. I looked 



EVANGELIST DIRECTS HIM ARIGHT. 29 

then, and saw a man named Evangelist coming to him, 
and he asked, " Wherefore dost thou cry?" 

He answered, " Sir, I perceive, by the book in my 
hand, that I am condemned to die, and after that to 
come to judgment, Heb., ix., 27 ; and I find that I am 
not willing to do the first, Job, x., 21, 22 ; nor able to 
do the second. 1 " Ezek., xxii., 14. 

Then said Evangelist, " Why not willing to die, since 
this life is attended with so many evils ? " The man 
answered, " Because I fear that this burden that is upon 
my back will sink me lower than the grave, and I shall 
fall into Tophet, Isa., xxx., 33. And, sir, if I be not 
fit to go to prison, I am not fit to go to judgment, and 
from thence to execution ; and the thoughts of these 
things make me cry." 

Then said Evangelist, " If this be thy condition, why 
standest thou still?" He answered, " Because I know 
not whither to go." Then he gave him a parchment 
roll, and there was written within, " Fly from the 
wrath to come." Matt., iii., 7. 

The man therefore read it, and, looking upon Evan- 
gelist very carefully, said, "Whither must I fly?" 
Then said Evangelist (pointing with his finger over a 
very wide field), " Do you see yonder wicket gate?" 
Matt., vii., 13, 14. The man said, " No." Then said 
the other, " Do you see yonder shining light?" Ps., 
cxix., 105; 2 Pet., L, 19. He said, "I think I do." 
Then said Evangelist, "Keep that light in your eye, 
and go up directly thereto, so shalt thou see the gate ; 
at which, when thou knockest, it shall be told thee what 
thou shalt do." So I saw in my dream that the man 
began to run. Now he had not run far from his own 
door when his wife and children, perceiving it, began 
to cry after him to return ; but the man put his fingers 



30 OBSTINATE AND PLIABLE PURSUE HIM. 

in his ears, and ran on, crying, " Life ! life ! eternal life ! " 
Luke, xiv., 26. So he looked not behind him, Gen., 
xix., 17, but fled toward the middle of the plain. 

The neighbors also came out to see him run, Jer., 
xx., 10; and as he ran some mocked, others threat- 
ened, and some cried after him to return ; and among 
those that did so, there were two that resolved to fetch 
him back by force. The name of the one was Obstinate, 
and the name of the other Pliable. Now by this time 
the man was got a good distance from them ; but how- 
ever they were resolved to pursue him, which they did, 
and in a little time they overtook him. Then said the 
man " Neighbors, wherefore are ye come ? " They said, 
" To persuade you to go back with us." But he said, 
" That can by no means be : you dwell," said he, " in 
the city of Destruction, the place also where I was born : 
I see it to be so ; and dying there, sooner or later you 
will sink lower than the grave into a place that burns 
with fire and brimstone : be content, good neighbors, 
and go along with me." 

Obst. What ! said Obstinate, and leave our friends 
and our comforts behind us ! 

Chr. Yes, sai'd Christian (for that was his name), 
because that all which you forsake is not worthy to be 
compared with a little of that I am seeking to enjoy, 2 
Cor. iv., 18; and if you will go along with me, and 
hold it, you shall fare as I myself; for there, where 
1 go, is enough and to spare, Luke, xv., 17. Come 
away, and prove my words. 

Obst. What are the things you seek, since you leave 
all the world to find them? 

Chr. I seek an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, 
and that fadeth not away, 1 Pet., i., 4; and it is laid 
up in heaven, and safe there, Heb., xi., 16, to be 



DIALOGUE WITH OBSTINATE AND PLIABLE. 3 1 

bestowed, at the time appointed, on them that dili- 
gently seek it. Read it so, if you will, in my book. 

Obst. Tush, said Obstinate, away with your book; 
will you go back with us or no ? 

Chr. No, not I, said the other, because I have laid 
my hand to the plough, Luke, ix., 62. 

Obst. Come, then, neighbor Pliable, let us turn 
again, and go home without him : there is a company 
of these crazy-headed coxcombs, that when they take 
a fancy by the end, are wiser in their own eyes than 
seven men that can render a reason. 

Pli. Then said Pliable, Don't revile; if what the 
good Christian says is true, the things he looks after 
are better than ours : my heart inclines to go with my 
neighbor. 

Obst. What ! more fools still ! Be ruled by me 
and go back ; who knows whither such a brain-sick 
fellow will lead you? Go back, go back, and be wise. 

Chr. Come with me, neighbor Pliable ; there are 
such things to be had which I spoke of, and many 
more glories beside. If you believe not me, read here 
in this book ; and for the truth of what is expressed 
therein, behold, all is confirmed by the blood of Him 
that made it, Heb., ix., 17, 21. 

Pli. Well, neighbor Obstinate, said Pliable, I begin 
to come to a point ; I intend to go along with this good 
man, and to cast in my lot with him : but, my good 
companion, do you know the way to this desired 
place? 

Chr. I am directed by a man, whose name is Evan- 
gelist, to speed me to a little gate that is before us, 
where we shall receive instruction about the way. 

Pli. Come then, good neighbor, let us be going. 
Then they went both together. 



OBSTINATE GOES BACK 

Plam ; and thus they began their %£££* ^ ^ 

^yon^rpe^atd T''' T "° ** «° ? ' ™ 
even Obstinate^msdf but Ih t^r* "*■ Had 
powers and terro To vha fe ve^n T ** ° f the 
thus lighdy have given us Ih" C ^ ** W ° U ' d " 0t 

bufus ,wo°he e ;e n t;; b n Te C n hriSt ; an ; *** *« ™ «« 
*£- ho w to beln^l^-t: S^ 

a^erta^ ^7 ^ "* "* "»* ° f *« book 
noUie," nSS ; f ° r " WaS made b * Him (1 'at can- 

c™ Th" Said;what """g3arethey? 
and "a ^ life tot* ' ^^ '° be fahabited > 

Pli. Well said ; and what else 
CHR. There shaN be no more crying, nor sonw> 



DIALOGUE BETWEEN CHRISTIAN AND PLIABLE. 33 

for he that is owner of the place will wipe all tears 
from our eyes, Isa.,xxv., 8; Rev., vii., 16, 17; xxi.,4. 

Pli. And what company shall we have there ? 

Chr. There we shall be with seraphims and cher- 
ubims, Isa., vi., 2; 1 Thess., iv., 16, 17; Rev., v., 
1 1 ; creatures that will dazzle your eyes to look 
on them. There also you shall meet with thou- 
sands and ten thousands that have gone before us to 
that place ; none of them are hurtful, but loving and 
holy; every one walking in the sight of God, and 
standing in his presence with acceptance for ever. In 
a word, there we shall see the elders with their golden 
crowns, Rev., iv., 4; there we shall see the holy 
virgins with their golden harps, Rev., xiv., 1, 5; 
there we shall see men, that by the world were cut in 
pieces, burnt in flames, eaten of beasts, drowned in the 
seas, for the love they bare to the Lord of the place, 
John, xii., 25 ; all well, and clothed with immortality as 
with a garment, 2 Cor., v., 2, 3, 5. 

Pli. The hearing of this is enough to ravish one's 
heart. But are these things to be enjoyed? How shall 
we get to be sharers thereof? 

Chr. The Lord, the governor of the country, hath 
recorded that in this book, Isa., Iv., 1, 2; John, vi., 
37; vii., 37; Rev., xxi., 6; xxii., 17; the substance 
of which is, If we be truly willing to have it, he will 
bestow it upon us freely. 

Pli. Well, my good companion, glad am I to hear 
of these things : come on, let us mend our pace. 

Chr. I cannot go so fast as I would, by reason of 
this burden that is on my back. 

Now I saw in my dream, that just as they had ended 
this talk, they drew nigh to a very miry slough that was 
in the midst of the plain : and they being heedless, did 



34 SLOUGH OF DESPOND — PLIABLE GOES BACK. 

both fall suddenly into the bog. The name of the 
slough was Despond. Here, therefore, they wallowed 
for a time, being grievously bedaubed with dirt ; and 
Christian, because of the burden that was on his back, 
began to sink in the mire. 

Pli. Then said Pliable, Ah, neighbor Christian, 
where are you now? 

Chr. Truly, said Christian, I do not know. 

Pli. At this Pliable began to be offended, and an- 
grily said to his fellow, Is this the happiness you have 
told me all this while of ? If we have such ill speed at 
our first setting out, what may we expect between this 
and our journey's end ? May I get out again with my 
life, you shall possess the brave country alone for me. 
And with that he gave a desperate struggle or two, and 
got out of the mire on that side of the slough which 
was next to his own house : so away he went, and 
Christian saw him no more. 

Wherefore Christian was left to tumble in the Slough 
of Despond alone : but still he endeavored to struggle 
to that side of the slough that was farthest from his 
own house, and next to the wicket-gate ; the which he 
did, but could not get out because of the burden that 
was upon his back : but I beheld in my dream, that a 
man came to him, whose name was Help, and asked 
him "What he did there?" 

Chr. Sir, said Christian, I was bid to go this way 
by a man called Evangelist, who directed me also to 
yonder gate that I might escape the wrath to come. 
And as I was going thither I fell in here. 

Help. But why did not you look for the steps? 

Chr. Fear followed me so hard, that I fled the next 
way, and fell in. 

Help. Then said he give me thine hand : so he gave 



CHRISTIAN LIFTED OUT BY HELP. 35 

him his hand, and he drew him out, Psalm, 40: 2, and 
he set him upon sound ground, and bid him go on his 
way. 

Then I stepped to him that plucked him out, and 
said, " Sir, wherefore, since over this place is the way 
from the city of Destruction to yonder gate, is it, that 
this plat is not mended, that poor travellers might go 
thither with more security?" And he said unto me, 
" This miry slough is such a place as cannot be 
mended : it is the descent whither the scum and filth 
that attends conviction for sin doth continually run, 
and therefore it is called the Slough of Despond ; for 
still as the sinner is awakened about his lost condition, 
there arise in his soul many fears and doubts, and 
discouraging apprehensions, which all of them get 
together, and settle in this place : and this is the rea- 
son of the badness of this ground. 

" It is not the pleasure of the King that this place 
should remain so bad, Isa., xxxv., 3, 4. His laborers 
also have, by the direction of his Majesty's surveyors, 
been for above these sixteen hundred years employed 
about this patch of ground, if perhaps it might have 
been mended : yea, and to my knowledge," said he, 
"here have been swallowed up at least twenty thou- 
sand cart-loads, yea, millions of wholesome instruc- 
tions, that have at all seasons been brought from all 
places of the king's dominions (and they that can tell, 
say, they are the best materials to make good ground 
of the place), if so be it might have been mended; 
but is the Slough of Despond still, and so will be when 
they have done what they can. 

"True, there are, by the direction of the Lawgiver, 
certain good and substantial steps, placed even through 
the very midst of this slough ; but at such time as this 



36 STEPS OF PROMISES — PLIABLE GETS HOME. 

place doth much spew out its filth, as it doth against 
change of weather, these steps are hardly seen ; or if 
they be, men, through the dizziness of their heads, 
step beside, and then they are bemired to purpose, not- 
withstanding the steps be there ; but the ground is 
good when they are once got in at the gate," 1 Sam., 
xii., 23. 

Now I saw in my dream, that by this time Pliable 
was got home to his house. So his neighbors came to 
visit him ; and some of them called him wise man for 
coming back, and some called him fool for hazarding 
himself with Christian : others again did mock at his 
cowardliness; saying, "Surely, since you began to 
venture, I would not have been so base to have given 
out for a few difficulties : " so Pliable sat sneaking 
among them. But at last he got more confidence, and 
.then they all turned their tales, and began to deride 
poor Christian behind his back. And thus much con- 
cerning Pliable. 

Now as Christian was walking solitarily by himself, 
he espied one afar off, come crossing over the field to 
meet him ; and their hap was to meet just as they were 
crossing the way of each other. The gentleman's 
name that met him was Mr. Worldly Wiseman : he 
dwelt in the town of Carnal Policy, a very great town, 
and also hard-by from whence Christian came. This 
man then, meeting with Christian, and having some 
inkling of him (for Christian's setting forth from the 
city of Destruction was much noised abroad, not only 
in the town where he dwelt, but also it began to be 
the town talk in some other places), — Mr. Worldly 
Wiseman, therefore, having some guess of him, by 
beholding his laborious going, by observing his sighs 
and groans, and the like, began thus to enter into some 
talk with Christian. 



CHRISTIAN MEETS MR. WORLDLY WISEMAN. yj 

World. How now, good fellow, whither away after 
this burdened manner? 

Chr. A burdened manner indeed, as ever I think 
poor creature had ! And whereas you ask me, Whither 
away? I tell you, sir, I am going to yonder wicket- 
gate before me ; for there, as I am informed, I shall be 
put into a way to be rid of my heavy burden. 

World. Hast thou a wife and children? 

Chr. Yes ; but I am so laden with this burden that 
I cannot take that pleasure in them as formerly : me- 
thinks I am as if I had none, i Cor. vii., 29. 

World. Wilt thou hearken to me if I give thee 
counsel? 

Chr. If it be good, I will; for I stand in need of 
good counsel? 

World. I would advise thee then, that thou with 
all speed get thyself rid of thy burden; for thou wilt 
never be settled in thy mind till then: nor canst thou 
enjoy the benefits of the blessings which God hath 
bestowed upon thee, till then. 

Chr. That is that which I seek for, even to be rid 
of this heavy burden : but get it off myself I cannot, 
nor is there any man in our country that can take it 
off my shoulders ; therefore am I going this way, as I 
told you, that 1 may be rid of my burden? 

World. Who bid thee go this way to be rid of thy 
burden? 

Chr. A man that appeared to me to be a very great 
and honorable person : his name, as I remember, is 
Evangelist. 

World. I beshrew 1 him for his counsel! there is 
not a more dangerous and troublesome way in the 
world than is that into which he hath directed thee ; 

1 Wish a curse to. 



38 THEIR CONVERSATION. 

and that thou shalt find, if thou wilt be ruled by his 
counsel. Thou hast met with something, as I per- 
ceive, already; for I see the dirt of the Slough of 
Despond is upon thee ; but that slough is the begin- 
ning of the sorrows that do attend those that go in 
that way. Hear me ; I am older than thou : thou art 
like to meet with, in the way which thou goest, 
wearisomeness, painfulness, hunger, perils, naked- 
ness, sword, lions, dragons, darkness, and, in a word, 
death, and what not. These things are certainly true, 
having been confirmed by many testimonies. And 
why should a man so carelessly cast away himself, by 
giving heed to a stranger? 

Chr. Why, sir, this burden upon my back is more 
terrible to me than all these things which you have 
mentioned : nay, methinks I care not what I meet with 
in the way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance 
from my burden. 

World. How earnest thou by thy burden at first ? 

Chr. By reading this book in my hand. 

World. I thought so ; and it has happened unto 
thee as to other weak men, who, meddling with things 
too high for them, do suddenly fall into thy distrac- 
tions ; which distractions do not only unman men, as 
thine I perceive have done thee, but they run them 
upon desperate ventures, to obtain they know not 
what. 

Chr. I know what I would obtain ; it is ease from 
my heavy burden. 

World. But why wilt thou seek for ease this way, 
seeing so many dangers attend it? especially since 
(hadst thou but patience to hear me) I could direct 
thee to the obtaining of what thou desirest, without 
the dangers that thou in this way wilt run thyself into. 



CONVERSATION WITH MR. WORLDLY WISEMAN. 39 

Yea, and the remedy is at hand. Besides, I will add, 
that instead of those dangers, thou shalt meet with 
much safety, friendship, and content. 

Chr. Pray, sir, open this secret to me. 
' World. Why, in yonder village (the village is 
named Morality) there dwells a gentleman whose name 
is Legality, a very judicious man, and a man of a very 
good name, that has skill to help men off with such 
burdens as thine is from their shoulders ; yea, to my 
knowledge, he hath done a great deal of good this 
way ; ay, and besides, he hath skill to cure those 
that are somewhat crazed in their wits with their 
burdens. To him, as 1 said, thou mayst go, and be 
helped presently. His house is not quite a mile from 
this place ; and if he should not be at home himself, 
he hath a pretty young man to his son, whose name is 
Civility, that can do it (to speak on) as well as the old 
gentleman himself: there, I say, thou mayst be eased 
of thy burden ; and if thou art not minded to go back 
to thy former habitation (as indeed I would not wish 
thee), thou mayst send for thy wife and children to 
thee to this village, where there are houses now stand- 
ing empty, one of which thou mayst have at a reason- 
able rate : provision is there also cheap and good ; and 
that which will make thy life the more happy is, to be 
sure there thou shalt live by honest neighbors, in 
credit and good fashion. 

Now was Christian somewhat at a stand ; but pres- 
ently he concluded, If this be true which this gentle- 
man hath said, my wisest course is to take his advice : 
and with that he thus further spake. 

Chr. Sir, which is my way to this honest man's 
house? 

World. Do you see yonder high hill? 



40 CHRISTIAN AFRAID OF MOUNT SINAI. 

Chr. Yes, very well. 

World. By that hill you must go, and the first 
house you come at is his. 

So Christian turned out of his way to go to Mr. 
Legality's house for help : but, behold, when he was 
got now hard by the hill it seemed so high, and also 
that side of it that was next the way-side did hang so 
much over, that Christian was afraid to venture further, 
lest the hill should fall on his head ; wherefore there 
he stood still, and wotted not what to do. Also his 
burden now seemed heavier to him than while he 
was in his way. There came also flashes of fire, 
Exod., xix., 16, 18, out of the hill, that made Christian 
afraid that he should be burnt : here therefore he 
did sweat, and quake for fear, Heb., xii., 21. And 
now he began to be sorry that he had taken Mr. 
Worldly Wiseman's counsel ; and with that he saw 
Evangelist coming to meet him, at the sight also of 
whom he began to blush for shame. So Evangelist 
drew nearer and nearer; and coming up to him, he 
looked upon him with a severe and dreadful counte- 
nance, and thus began to reason with Christian. 

Evan. What dost thou here, Christian? said he; 
at which words Christian knew not what to answer ; 
wherefore at present he stood speechless before him. 
Then said Evangelist farther, Art not thou the man 
that I found crying without the walls of the city of 
Destruction? 

Chr. Yes, dear sir, I am the man. 

Evan. Did not I direct thee the way to the little 
wicket-gate ? 

Chr. Yes, dear sir, said Christian. 

Evan. How is it then that thou art so quickly 
turned aside ? For thou art now out of the way. 



CONVERSATION WITH EVANGELIST. 41 

Chr. I met with a gentleman so soon as I had got 
over the Slough of Despond, who persuaded me that 
1 might, in the village before me, find a man that could 
take off my burden. 

Evan. What was he? 

Chr. He looked like a gentleman, and talked much 
to me, and got me at last to yield : so I came hither ; 
but when I beheld this hill, and how it hangs over the 
way, I suddenly made a stand ; lest it should fall on 
my head. 

Evan. What said that gentleman to you ? 

Chr. Why, he asked me whither I was going ; and I 
told him. 

Evan. And what said he then ? 

Chr. He asked me if I had a family : and I told 
him. But, said I, I am so laden with the burden that 
is on my back that I cannot take pleasure in them as 
formerly. 

Evan. And what said he then? 

Chr. He bid me with speed get rid of my burden, 
and I told him it was ease that I sought : And said I, 
I am therefore going to yonder gate, to receive further 
direction how I may get to the place of deliverance. 
So he said that he would show me a better way, and 
short, not so attended with difficulties as the way, sir, 
that you set me in ; which way, said he, will direct you 
to a gentleman's house that hath skill to take off these 
burdens: so I believed him, and turned out of that 
way into this, if haply I might soon be eased of my 
burden. But when I came to this place, and beheld 
things as they are, I stopped, for fear (as I said) of 
danger : but I now know not what to do. 

Then said Evangelist, Stand still a little, that I 
may show thee the words of God. So he stood 



42 EVANGELIST CONVINCES HIM OF HIS ERROR. 

trembling. Then said Evangelist, " See that ye refuse 
not Him that speaketh : for if they escaped not who 
refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not 
we escape, if we turn away from Him that speaketh 
from heaven." Heb., xii., 25. He said, moreover, 
"Now the just shall live by faith: but if any man 
draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him," 
Heb., x., 38. He also did thus apply them ; Thou art 
the man that art running into misery ; thou hast begun 
to reject the counsel of the Most High, and to draw 
back thy foot from the way of peace, even almost to 
the hazarding of thy perdition. 

Then Christian fell down at his feet as dead, crying, 
Wo is me, for I am undone! At the sight of which 
Evangelist caught him by the right hand, saying, " All 
manner of sin and blasphemies shall be forgiven unto 
men," Matt., xii., 31. "Be not faithless, but believ- 
ing," John, xx., 27. Then did Christian again a little 
revive, and stood up trembling, as at first, before 
Evangelist. 

Then Evangelist proceeded, saying, Give more ear- 
nest heed to the things that I shall tell thee of. I will 
now show thee who it was that deluded thee, and who 
it was also to whom he sent thee. That man that met 
thee is one Worldly Wiseman ; and rightly is he so 
called ; partly because he savoreth only of the doctrine 
of this world, 1 John, iv., 5 ; (therefore he always goes 
to the town of Morality to church ;) and partly because 
he loveth that doctrine best, for it saveth him from the 
cross, Gal., vi., 12, and # because he is of this carnal 
temper, therefore he seeketh to pervert my ways, though 
right. Now there are three things in this man's counsel 
that thou must utterly abhor. 

1. His turning thee out of the way. 



EVANGELIST CONVINCES HIM OF HIS ERROR. 43 

2. His laboring to render the cross odious to thee. 

3. And his setting thy feet in that way that leadeth 
unto the administration of death. 

First, Thou must abhor his turning thee out of the 
way ; yea, and thine own consenting thereto ; because 
this is to reject the counsel of God for the sake of 
the counsel of a Worldly Wiseman. The Lord says, 
" Strive to enter in at the strait gate," Luke, xiii., 24, 
the gate to which I send thee; "for strait is the 
gate that leadeth unto life, and few there be that find 
it." Matt., vii., 13, 14. From this little wicket-gate, 
and from the way thereto, hath this wicked man turned 
thee, to the bringing of thee almost to destruction : 
hate, therefore, his turning thee out of the way, and 
abhor thyself for hearkening to him. 

Secondly, Thou must abhor his laboring to render 
■\e cross odious unto thee; for thou art to prefer it 
before the treasures of Egypt, Heb., xi., 25, 26. Be- 
sides, the King of glory hath told thee, that he that 
will save his life shall lose it. And he that comes after 
him, and hates not his father, and mother, and wife, 
and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his 
own life also, he cannot be my disciple, Mark, viii., 
38; John, xii., 25; Matt., x., 39; Luke, xiv., 26. I 
say, therefore, for a man to labor to persuade thee that 
that shall be thy death, without which, the Truth hath 
said, thou canst not have eternal life : this doctrine 
thou must abhor. 

Thirdly, Thou must hate his setting of thy feet in 
the way that leadeth to the ministration of death. And 
for this thou must consider to whom he sent thee, and 
also how unable that person was to deliver thee from 
thy burden. 

He to whom thou wast sent for ease, being by name 



44 EVANGELIST CONVINCES HIM OF HIS ERROR. 

Legality, is the son of the bond-woman which now is, 
and is in bondage with her children, Gal., iv., 21, 27, 
and is, in a mystery, this mount Sinai, which thou hast 
feared will fall on thy head. Now if she with her chil- 
dren are in bondage, how canst thou expect by them to 
be made free ? This Legality, therefore, is not able to 
set thee free from thy burden. No man was as yet ever 
rid of his burden by him ; no, nor ever is like to be : 
ye cannot be justified by the works of the law ; for by 
the deeds of the law no man living can be rid of his 
burden. Therefore Mr. Worldly Wiseman is an alien, 
and Mr. Legality is a cheat ; and for his son Civility, 
notwithstanding his simpering looks, he is but a hypo- 
crite, and cannot help thee. Believe me, there is 
nothing in all this noise that thou hast heard of these 
sottish men, but a design to beguile thee of thy salvation, 
by turning thee from the way in which I had set thee. 

After this, Evangelist called aloud to the heavens 
for confirmation of what he had said ; and with that 
there came words and fire out of the mountain under 
which poor Christian stood, which made the hair of his 
flesh stand up. The words were thus pronounced, 
"As many as are of the works of the law are under 
the curse ; for it is written, Cursed is every one that 
continueth not in all things which are written in the 
book of the law to do them." Gal., iii., 10. 

Now Christian looked for nothing but death, and 
began to cry out lamentably ; even cursing the time in 
which he met with Mr. Worldly Wiseman ; still calling 
himself a thousand fools for hearkening to his counsel. 
He also was greatly ashamed to think that this gentle- 
man's arguments, flowing only from the flesh, should 
have the prevalency with him so far as to cause him 
to forsake the right way. This done, he applied 



EVANGELIST CONVINCES HIM OF HIS ERROR. 45 

himself again to Evangelist in words and sense as 
follows. 

Chr. Sir, what think you? Is there any hope? May 
I now go back, and go up to the wicket-gate ? Shall I 
not be abandoned for this, and sent back from thence 
ashamed ? I am sorry I have hearkened to this man's 
counsel ; but may my sin be forgiven ? 

Then said Evangelist to him, Thy sin is very great, 
for by it thou hast committed two evils ; thou hast for- 
saken the way that is good, to tread in forbidden paths. 
Yet will the man at the gate receive thee, for he has 
good will for men ; only, said he, take heed that thou 
turn not aside again, lest thou " perish from the way, 
when his wrath is kindled but a little," Ps., ii., 12. 

Then did Christian address himself to go back; 
and Evangelist, after he had kissed him, gave him 
one smile, and bid him God speed ; so he went on 
with haste, neither spake he to any man by the way ; 
nor if any asked him, would he vouchsafe them an 
answer. He went like one that was all the while 
"treading on forbidden ground, and could by no 
means think himself safe, till again he was got into the 
way which he had left to follow Mr. Worldly Wise- 
man's counsel. So, in process of time, Christian got up 
to the gate. Now, over the gate there was written, 
" Knock, and it shall be opened unto you," Matt., vii., 7. 
He knocked, therefore, more than once or twice, 
saying, 

May I now enter here ? Will he within 

Open to sorry me, though I have been 

An undeserving rebel ? Then shall I 

Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high. 

At last there came a grave person to the gate, named 
Goodwill, who asked who' was there, and whence he 
came, and what he would have. 



46 CHRISTIAN ENTERS AT THE GATE. 

Chr. Here is a poor burdened sinner. I come from 
the city of Destruction, but am going to Mount Zion, 
that I may be delivered from the wrath to come : I 
would therefore, sir, since I am informed that by this 
gate is the way thither, know if you are willing to let 
me in. 

Good. I am willing with all my heart, said he, and 
with that he opened the gate. 

So when Christian was stepping in, the other gave 
him a pull. Then said Christian, What means that? 
The other told him, A little distance from this gate 
there is erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is 
the captain; from thence both he and they that are 
with him shoot arrows at those that come up to this 
gate, if haply they may die before they can enter in. 
Then said Christian, I rejoice and tremble. So when 
he was got in, the man of the gate asked him who 
directed him thither. 

Chr. Evangelist bid me come hither and knock, as 
I did : and he said, that you, sir, would tell me what I 
must do. 

Good. An open door is set before thee, and no man 
can shut it. 

Chr. Now I begin to reap the benefit of my hazards. 

Good. But how is it that you came alone? 

Chr. Because none of my neighbors saw their 
dangers as I saw mine. 

Good. Did any of them know of your coming? 

Chr. Yes, my wife and children saw me at the first, 
and called after me to turn again : also, some of my 
neighbors stood crying and calling after me to return ; 
but I put my fingers in my ears, and so came on my way. 

Good. But did none of them follow you, to persuade 
you to go back ? 



TALK WITH GOODWILL. 47 

Chr. Yes, both Obstinate and Pliable: but when 
they saw that they could not prevail, Obstinate went 
railing back, but Pliable came with me a little way. 

Good. But why did he not come through? 

Chr. We indeed came both together until we came 
to the Slough of Despond, into the which we also sud- 
denly fell. And then was my neighbor Pliable dis- 
couraged, and would not venture farther. Wherefore, 
getting out again on the side next to his own house, he 
told me I should possess the brave country alone for 
him : so he went his way, and I came mine ; he after 
Obstinate, and I to this gate. 

Then said Goodwill, Alas, poor man ! is the celestial 
glory of so little esteem with him, that he counteth 
it not worth running the hazard of a few difficulties to 
obtain it? 

Truly, said Christian, I have said the truth of Plia- 
ble ; and if I should also say the truth of myself, it 
will appear there is no betterment betwixt him and 
myself. 'Tis true, he went back to his own house, but 
I also turned aside to go into the way of death, being 
persuaded thereto by the carnal argument of one 
Mr. Worldly Wiseman. 

Good. O ! did he light upon you? What ! he would 
have had you seek for ease at the hands of Mr. Legal- 
ity ! They are both of them a very cheat. But did 
you take his counsel ? 

Chr. Yes, as far as I durst. I went to find out Mr. 
Legality, until I thought that the mountain that stands 
by his house would have fallen upon my head ; where- 
fore there I was forced to stop. 

Good. That mountain has been the death of many, 
and will be the death of many more ; it is well you 
escaped being by it dashed in pieces. 



48 TALK WITH GOODWILL. 

Chr. Why, truly I do not know what had become 
of me there, had not Evangelist happily met me again 
as I was musing in the midst of my dumps ; but it was 
God's mercy that he came to me again, for else I had 
never come hither. But now I am come, such a one 
as I am, more fit indeed for death by that mountain, 
than thus to stand talking with my Lord. But, O ! 
what a favor is this to me, that yet I am admitted 
entrance here ! 

Good. We make no objections against any, notwith- 
standing all that they have done before they come 
hither: they in no wise are cast out, John, vi., 37. 
And therefore, good Christian, come a little way with 
me, and I will teach thee about the way thou must go. 
Look before thee; dost thou see this narrow way? 
That is the way thou must go. It was cast up by the 
patriarchs, prophets, Christ and his apostles, and it is 
as straight as a rule can make it ; this is the way thou 
must go. 

Chr. But, said Christian, are there no turnings nor 
windings, by which a stranger may lose his way. 

Good. Yes, there are many ways abut down upon 
this ; and they are crooked and wide : but thus thou 
mayst distinguish the right from the wrong, the right 
only being straight and narrow, Matt., vii., 14. 

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian asked him 
further, if he could not help him off with his burden 
that was upon his back. For as yet he had not got 
rid thereof, nor could he by any means get it off with- 
out help. 

He told him, "As to thy burden, be content to bear 
it until thou comest to the place of deliverance ; for 
there it will fall from thy back of itself." 

Then Christian began to gird up his loins, and to 



CHRISTIAN REACHES THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 49 

address himself to his journey. So the other told him, 
that by that he was gone some distance from the gate, 
he would come to the house of the Interpreter, at 
whose door he should knock, and he would show him 
excellent things. Then Christian took his leave of his 
friend, and he again bid him God-speed. 

Then he went on till he came at the house of the 
Interpreter, 1 where he knocked over and over. At last 
one came to the door, and asked who was there. 

Chr. Sir, here is a traveller, who was bid by an 
acquaintance of the good man of this house to call 
here for my profit ; I would therefore speak with the 
master of the house. 

So he called for the master of the house, who, after 
a little time, came to Christian, and asked him what he 
would have. 

Sir, said Christian, I am a man that am come from 
the city of Destruction, and am going to Mount Zion ; 
and I was told by the man that stands at the gate at 
the head of this way, that if I called here you would 
show me excellent things, such as would be helpful 
to me on my journey. 

Then said the Interpreter, Come in ; I will show 
thee that which will be profitable to thee. So he 
commanded his man to light the candle, and bid 
Christian follow him ; so he had him into a private 
room, and bid his man open a door; the which when 
he had done, Christian saw the picture of a very grave 
person hang up against the wall ; and this was the 
fashion of it : it had eyes lifted up to heaven, the best 
of books in its hand, the law of truth was written upon 
its lips, the world was behind its back ; it stood as if 
it pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang 
over its head. 

• The Holy Spirit. 



50 THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 

Then said Christian, What meaneth this ? 

Inter. The man whose picture this is, is one of a 
thousand. Whereas thou seest him with his eyes lift 
up to heaven, the best of books in his hand, and the 
law of truth writ on his lips, it is to show thee, that 
his work is to know, and unfold dark things to sinners ; 
even as also thou seest him stand as if he pleaded with 
men. And whereas thou seest the world as cast be- 
hind him, and that a crown hangs over his head : that 
is to show thee, that slighting and despising things 
that are present, for the love that he hath to his 
Master's service, he is sure in the world that comes 
next to have glory for his reward. Now, said the 
Interpreter, I have showed thee this picture first, be- 
cause the man whose picture this is, is the only man 
whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going 
hath authorized to be thy guide in all difficult places 
thou mayst meet with in the way : wherefore take 
good heed to what I have showed thee, and bear well 
in thy mind what thou hast seen, lest in thy journey 
thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee right, 
but their way goes clown to death. 

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into 
a very large parlor that was full of dust because never 
swept ; the which after he reviewed it a little while, 
the Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when 
he began to sweep, the dust began so abundantly to 
fly about, that Christian had almost therewith been 
choked. Then said the Interpreter to a damsel that 
stood by, " Bring hither water, and sprinkle the room ; " 
the which when she had clone, it was swept and 
cleansed with pleasure. 

Then said Christian, What means this? 

The Interpreter answered, This parlor is the heart 



THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 51 

of a man that was never sanctified by the sweet grace 
of the gospel. The dust is his original sin, and 
inward corruptions, that have defiled the whole man. 
He that began to sweep at first, is the law ; but 
she that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the 
gospel. Now whereas thou sawest, that as soon as 
the first began to sweep, the dust did «o fly about, 
that the room could not by him be cleansed but that 
thou was almost choked therewith ; this is to show 
thee, that the law, instead of cleansing the heart 
(by its working) from sin, doth revive, Rom., vii., 9; 
put strength into, 1 Cor., xv., 56; and increase it 
in the soul, Rom., v., 20; even as it doth discover 
and forbid it, for it doth not give power to subdue. 
Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room 
with water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure ; 
this is to show thee, that when the gospel comes 
in the sweet and precious influences thereof to the 
heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the damsel 
lay the dust by sprinkling the floor with water, so is 
sin vanquished and subdued, and the soul made clean, 
through the faith of it, and consequently fit for the 
King of glory to inhabit, John, xv., 3; Eph., v., 26; 
Acts, xv., 9; Rom., xvi., 25, 26; John, xv., 13. 

1 saw moreover in my dream, that the Interpreter 
took him by the hand, and had him into a little room, 
where sat two little children, each one in his chair. 
The name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of 
the other Patience. Passion seemed to be much dis- 
contented, but Patience was very quiet. Then Chris- 
tian asked, " What is the reason of the discontent of 
Passion?" The Interpret^' answered, "The governor 
of them would have him stay for his best things till 
the beginning of next year ; but he will have all now ; 
but Patience is willing to wait. 1 ' 



52 THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 

Then I saw that one came to Passion, and brought 
him a bag of treasure, and poured it down at his feet : 
the which he took up and rejoiced therein, and withal 
laughed Patience to scorn. But I beheld but a while, 
and he had lavished all away, and had nothing left 
him but rags. 

Then said ^Christian to the Interpreter, Expound 
this matter more fully to me. 

So he said, These two lads are figures ; Passion 
of the men of this world, and Patience of the men 
of that which is to come : for as here thou seest, Pas- 
sion will have all now, this year, that is to say, in this 
world; so are the men of this world; they must have 
all their good things now ; they cannot stay till the 
next year, that is, until the next world, for their 
portion of good. That proverb, " A bird in the hand 
is worth two in the bush," is of more authority with 
them than are all the divine testimonies of the good 
of the world to come. But as thou sawest that he had 
quickly lavished all away, and had presently left him 
nothing but rags, so will it be with all such men at 
the end of this world. 

Chr. Then said Christian, Now I see that Patience 
has the best wisdom, and that upon many accounts. 
I. Because he stays for the best things. 2. And also 
because he will have the glory of his, when the other 
has nothing but rags. 

Inter. Nay, you may add another, to wit, the glory 
of the next world will never wear out ; but these are 
suddenly gone. Therefore Passion had not so much 
reason to laugh at Patience, because he had his good 
things first, as Patience will have to laugh at Passion, 
because he had his best things last ; for first must give 
place to last, because last must have his time to come ; 



THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 53 

but last gives place to nothing ; for there is not another 
to succeed ; he therefore that hath his portion first, 
must needs have a time to spend it ; but he that hath 
his portion last, must have it lastingly : therefore it is 
said of Dives, " In thy lifetime thou receivedst thy good 
things, and likewise Lazarus evil things : but now he is 
comforted, and thou art tormented. 1 ' Luke, xvi., 25. 

Chr. Then I perceive it is not best to covet things 
that are now, but to wait for things to come. 

Inter. You say truth : for the things that are seen 
are temporal, but the things that are not seen are eter- 
nal. 2 Cor., iv., 18. But though this be so, yet since 
things present, and our fleshly appetite, are such near 
neighbors one to another; and again, because things 
to come and carnal sense are such strangers one to 
another ; therefore it is, that the first of these so sud- 
denly fall into amity, and that distance b so continued 
between the second, Rom., vii., 15-25. 

Then I saw in my dream, that the Interpreter took 
Christian by the hand, and led him into a place wjiere 
was a fire burning against a wall, and one standing by 
it, always casting much water upon it, to quench it; 
yet did the fire burn higher and hotter. 

Then said Christian, What means this? 

The Interpreter answered, This fire is the work of 
grace that is wrought in the heart ; he that casts water 
upon it to extinguish and put it out, is the devil : but 
in that thou seest the fire notwithstanding burn higher 
and hotter, thou shalt also see the reason of that. So 
hs had him about to the other side of the wall, where 
hi saw a man with a vessel of oil in his hand, of the 
which he did also continually cast (but secretly) into 
the fire. 

Then said Christian, What means this ? 



54 THE interpreter's house. 

The Interpreter answered, This is Christ, who con- 
tinually, with the oil of his grace, maintains the work 
already begun in the heart; by the means of which 
notwithstanding what the devil can do, the souls of his 
people prove gracious still, 2 Cor., xii., 9. And in that 
thou sawest that the man stood behind the wall to 
maintain the fire ; this is to teach thee, that it is hard 
for the tempted to see how this work of grace is 
maintained in the soul. 

I saw also, that the Interpreter took him by the 
hand, and led him into a pleasant place, where was 
built a stately palace, beautiful to behold ; at the si-ht 
of which Christian was greatly delighted. He slw 
also upon the top thereof certain persons walking, who 
were clothed all in gold. 

Then said Christian, May we go in thither? 
Then the Interpreter took him and led him up 
toward the door of the palace; and behold, at the 
door stood a great company of men, as desirous to <r 
in, but durst not. There also sat a man at a little dis- 
tance from the door, at a table-side, with a book and 
his ink horn before him, to take the names of them 
that should enter therein; he saw also that in the 
doorway stood many men in armor to keep it beino- 
resolved to do to the men that would enter what hurt 
and mischief they could. Now was Christian some- 
what in amaze. At last, when every man started back 
for fear of the armed men, Christian saw a man of a 
very stout countenance come up to the man that sat 
there to write, saying, " Set down my name sir; » the 
which when he had done, he saw the man draw his 
sword, and put a helmet upon his head, and rush 
toward the door upon the armed men, who laid upon 
him with deadly force ; but the man, not at all dis- 



THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 55 

couraged, fell to cutting and hacking most fiercely. 
So after he had received and given many wounds to 
those that attempted to keep him out, Matt., xi., 12; 
Acts, xiv., 22; he cut his way through them all and 
pressed forward into the palace, at which there was 
a pleasant voice heard from those that were within, 
even of those that walked upon the top of the palace 
saying, 

Come in, come in, 

Eternal glory shalt thou win. 

So he went in, and was clothed with such garments as 
they. Then Christian smiled, and said, I think verily 
I know the meaning of this. 

Now, said Christian, Let me go hence. Nay, stay, 
said the Interpreter, until I have showed thee a little 
more, and after that thou shalt go thy way. So he 
took him by the hand again, and led him into -a very 
dark room, where there sat a man in an iron cage. 

Now the man, to look on, seemed very sad; he sat 
with his eyes looking down to the ground, his hands 
folded together, and he sighed as if he would break 
his heart. Then said Christian, What means this ? 
At which the Interpreter bid him talk with the man. 

Then said Christian to the man, What art thou? 
The man answered, I am what I was not once ? 

Chr. What was thou once? 

Man. ,The man said, I was once a fair and flourish- 
ing professor, Luke, viii., 13 ; both in mine own eyes, 
and also in the eyes of others : I was once, as I 
thought, fair for the celestial city, and had even joy at 
the thoughts that I should get thither. 

Chr. Well, but what art thou now? 

Man. I am now a man of despair, and am shut up 



56 THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 

in it, as in this iron cage. I cannot get out. Oh now 
I cannot ! 

Chr. But how earnest thou into this condition? 

Man. I left off to watch and be sober : I laid the 
reins upon the neck of my lusts ; I sinned against 
the light of the word, and the goodness of God; I 
have grieved the Spirit, and he is gone ; I tempted 
the devil, and he is come to me ; I have provoked God 
to anger, and he has left me ; I have so hardened my 
heart that I cannot repent. 

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, but are there 
no hopes for such a man as this? Ask him, said the 
Interpreter. 

Then said Christian, Is there no hope, but you 
must be kept in the iron cage of despair? 

Man. No, none at all. 

Chr. Why, the Son of the Blessed is very pitiful. 

Man. I have crucified him to myself afresh, Heb., 
vi., 6. I have despised his person, Luke, xix., 14. I 
have despised his righteousness ; I have counted his 
blood an unholy thing ; I have done despite to the 
Spirit of grace, Heb., x., 28, 29; therefore I shut 
myself out of all the promises, and there now remains 
to me nothing but threatenings, dreadful threatenings, 
fearful threatenings of certain judgment and fiery in- 
dignation, which shall devour me as an adversary. 

Chr. For what did you bring yourself into this 
condition? 

Man. For the lusts, pleasures, and profits of this 
world ; in the enjoyment of which I did then promise 
myself much delight ; but now every one of those 
things also bite me, and gnaw me, like a burning 
worm. 

Chr. But canst thou not now repent and turn? 



THE INTERPRETER'S HOUSE. 57 

Man. God hath denied me repentence. His word 
gives me no encouragement to believe ; yea, himself 
hath shut me up in this iron cage : nor can all the men 
in the world let me out. Oh eternity! eternity! how 
shall I grapple with the misery that I must meet with 
in eternity. 

Then said the Interpreter to Christian. Let this 
man's misery be remembered by thee, and be an ever- 
lasting caution to thee. 

Well, said Christian, this is fearful ! God help 
me to watch and to be scber, and to pray that I 
may shun the cause of this man's misery. Sir, is it 
not time for me to go on my way now? 

Inter. Tarry till I shall show thee one thing more, 
and then thou shalt go on thy way. 

So he took Christian by the hand again, and led 
him into a chamber where there was one rising out 
of bed : and as he put on his raiment, he shook and 
trembled. Then said Christian, Why doth this man 
thus tremble? The Interpreter then bid him tell to 
Christian the reason of his so doing. So he began, 
and said, " This night, as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, 
and behold the heavens grew exceedingly black ; also 
it thundered and lightened in most fearful wise, that it 
put me into an agony. So I looked up in my dream, 
and saw the clouds rack, at an unusual rate ; upon 
which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw 
also a man sitting upon a cloud, attended with the 
thousands of heaven ; they were all in flaming fire ; 
also the heavens were in a burning flame. I heard 
then a great voice, saying, " Arise, ye dead, and come 
to judgment. " And with that the rocks rent, the 
graves opened, and the dead that were therein came 
forth : and some of them were exceedingly glad, and 



58 THE interpreter's house. 

looking upward ; and some sought to hide themselves 
under the mountains. Then I saw the man that sat 
upon the cloud, open the book and bid the world draw 
near. Yet there was, by reason of a fierce flame 
which issued out and came before him, a convenient 
distance betwixt him and them, as betwixt the judge 
and the prisoners at the bar, I Cor., xv. ; I Thess., iv., 
16; Jude, xv. ; John, v., 28, 29; 2 Thess., i., 8, 10; 
Rev., xx., n, 14; Isa., xxvi., 21 ; Micah, vii., 16, 17; 
Ps., v., 4; 1., 1,3; Mai., iii., 2, 3 ; Dan., vii., 9, 10. I 
heard it also proclaimed to them that attended on the 
man that sat on the cloud, " Gather together the tares, 
the chaff, and stubble, and cast them into the burning 
lake," Matt., iii., 12; xiii., 30; xxiv.,30; Mai., iv., 1. 
And with that the bottomless pit opened, just where- 
about I stood ; out of the mouth of which there came, 
in an abundant manner, smoke, and coals of fire, with 
hideous noises. It was also said to the same persons, 
'Gather my wheat into the garner, 1 Luke, iii., 17. 
And with that I saw many catched up and carried 
away into the clouds, but I was left behind, 1 Thess., 
iv., 16, 17. I also sought to hide myself, but I could 
not; for the man that sat upon the cloud still kept 
his eye upon me : my sins also came into my mind ; 
and my conscience did accuse me on every side, 
Rom., [ii., 14, 15. Upon this I awakened from my 
sleep. 

Chr. But what was it that made you so afraid of 
this sight? 

Man. Why 1 thought that the day of judgment was 
come, and that I was not ready for it : but this affrighted 
me most, that the angels gathered up several, and left 
me behind : also the pit of hell opened her mouth just 
where I stood. My conscience too afflicted me ; and, 



CHRISTIAN LOSES HIS BURDEN AT THE CROSS. 59 

as I thought, the Judge had always his eye upon me, 
showing indignation in his countenance. 

Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Hast thou 
considered all these things ? 

Chr. Yes, and they put me in hope and fear. 

Inter. Well, keep all things so in thy mind, that 
they may be as a goad in thy sides, to prick thee 
forward in the way thou must go. Then Christian 
began to gird up his loins, and to address himself to 
his journey. Then said the Interpreter, " The Com- 
forter be always with thee, good Christian, to guide 
thee in the way that leads to the city. 11 So Christian 
went on his way, saying, — 

Here have I seen things rare and profitable, 
Things pleasant, dreadful, things to make me stable 
In what I have begun to take in hand : 
Then let me think on them, and understand 
Wherefore they showed me were, and let me be 
Thankful, O good Interpreter, to thee. 

Now I saw in my dream, that the highway which 
Christian was to go was fenced on either side with 
a wall, and that wall was called Salvation, Isa., xxvi., i. 
Up this way therefore did burdened Christian run, but 
not without great difficulty, because of the load on his 
back. 

He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat 
ascending ; and upon that place stood a cross, and a 
little below, in the bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in 
my dream, that just as Christian came up with the 
cross his burden loosed from off his shoulders, and 
fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so 
continued to do till it came to the mouth of the 
sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more. 



60 WEEPING AND REJOICING AT THE CROSS. 

Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and said 
with a merry heart, " He hath given me rest by his 
sorrow, and life by his death.' 1 Then he stood still 
a while to look and wonder ; for it was very surprising 
to him that the sight of the cross should thus ease 
him of his burden. He looked, therefore, and looked 
again, even till the springs that were in his head sent 
the waters down his cheeks, Zech., xii., 10. Now as 
he stood looking and weeping, behold, three Shining 
Ones came to him, and saluted him with " Peace be to 
thee." So the first said to him, " Thy sins be forgiven 
thee," Mark ii., 5, the second stripped him of his rags, 
and clothed him with change of raiment, Zech., iii., 4, 
the third also set a mark on his forehead, Eph., i., 13, 
and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, which he 
bid him look on as he ran,. and that he should give 
it in at the celestial gate ; so they went their way. 
Then Christian gave three leaps for joy, and went on 
singing, — 

Thus far did I come laden with my sin ; 
Nor could aught ease the grief that I was in, 
Till I came hither : what a place is this ! 
Must here be the beginning of my bliss? 
Must here the burden fall from off my back ? 
Must here the strings that bound it to me crack ? 
Blest cross ! blest sepulchre ! blest rather be 
The Man that there was put to shame for me ! 

I saw then in my dream, that he went on thus, even 
until he came at the bottom, where he saw, a little out 
of the way, three men fast asleep, with fetters upon 
their heels. The name of the one was Simple, of 
another Sloth, and of the third Presumption. 

Christian then seeing them lie in this case, went 
to them, if peradventure he might awake them, and 



SIMPLE, SLOTH, AND PRESUMPTION. 6l 

cried You are like them that sleep on the top of a 
mast' Prov., xxiii., 34, for the dead sea is under you, 
a gulf that hath no bottom: awake, therefore, and 
com- away ; be willing also, and I will help you off 
with your irons. He also told them, If he that goeth 
about' like a roaring lion, 1 Pet., v., 8, comes by, you 
will certainly become a prey to his teeth. With that 
they looked upon him, and began to reply in this sort: 
Simple said, I see no danger; Sloth said, Yet a little 
more sleep ; and Presumption said, Every tub must 
stand upon its own bottom. And so they lay down to 
sleep ao-ain, and Christian went on his way. 

Yet was he troubled to think, that men in that 
danger should so little esteem the kindness of him 
thafso freely offered to help them, both by awakening 
of them, counselling of them, and proffering to help 
them off with their irons. And as he was troubled 
thereabout, he espied two men come tumbling over 
the wall on the left hand of the narrow way, and they 
made up apace to him. The name of the one was 
Formalist, and the name of the other Hypocrisy. So, 
as I said, they drew up unto him, who thus entered 
with them into discourse. 

Chr. Gentlemen, whence came you, and whither do 

y° u fe° ? 1 j C 

Form, and Hyp. We were born in the land ot 
Vain-glory, and are going for praise to Mount Sion. 

Chr. Why came you not in at the gate which 
standeth at the beginning of the way? Know ye not 
that it is written, that "he that cometh not in by 
the door, but climbeth up some other way, the same 
is a thief and a robber ?" John, x., 1. 

They said, that to go to the gate for entrance was 
by all their countrymen counted too far about; and 



62 FORMALIST AND" HYPOCRISY. 

that therefore their usual way was to make a short cut 
of it, and to climb over the wall as they had done. 

Chr. But will it not be counted a trespass against 
the Lord of the city whither we are bound, thus to 
violate his revealed will ? 

They told him, that as for that, he needed not to 
trouble his head thereabout : for what they did they 
had custom for, and could produce, if need were, testi- 
mony that would witness it, for more than a thousand 
years. 

But, said Christian, will your practice stand a trial 
at law ? 

They told him, that custom, it being of so long 
standing as above a thousand years, would doubtless 
now be admitted as a thing legal by an impartial judge : 
and besides, said they, if we get into the way, what 
matter is it which way we get in? If we are in, we 
are in : thou art but in the way, who, as we perceive, 
came in at the gate ; and we also are in the way, that 
came tumbling over the wall : wherein now is thy con- 
dition better than ours ? 

Chr. I walk by the rule of my Master : you walk 
by the rude working of your fancies. You are counted 
thieves already by the Lord of the way : therefore I 
doubt you will not be found true men at the end of the 
way. You come in by yourselves without his direc- 
tion, and shall go out by yourselves without his 
mercy. 

To this they made him but little answer ; only they 
bid him look to himself. Then I saw that they went 
on every man in his way, without much conference 
one with another ; save that these two men told Chris- 
tian, that as to laws and ordinances, they doubted not 
but that they should as conscientiously do them as he. 



FORMALIST AND HYPOCRISY. 63 

Therefore, said they, we see not wherein thou differest 
from us, but by the coat that is on thy back, which 
was, as we trow, given thee by some of thy neighbors, 
to hide the shame of thy nakedness. 

Chr. l>y laws and ordinances you will not be saved 
since you came not in by the door, Gal., ii., 16. And 
as for this coat that is on my back, it was given me by 
the Lord of the place whither I go ; and that, as you 
say, to cover my nakedness with. And I take it as a 
token of his kindness to me ; for I had nothing but 
rags before. And besides thus I comfort myself as I 
go. Surely, think I, when I come to the gate of the 
city, the Lord thereof will know me for good, since I 
have his coat on my back ; a coat that he gave me 
freely in the day that he stript me of my rags. 1 have, 
moreover, a mark in my forehead, of which perhaps 
you have taken no notice, which one of my Lord's 
most intimate associates fixed there in the day that my 
burden fell off my shoulders. I will tell you, more- 
over, that I had then given me a roll sealed, to com- 
fort me by reading as I go in the way ; I was also bid 
to give it in at the celestial gate, in token of my certain 
going in after it; all which things I doubt you want, 
and want them because you came not in at the gate. 

To these things they gave him no answer; only 
they looked upon each other, and laughed. Then I 
saw that they went on all, save that Christian kept 
before, who had no more talk but with himself, and 
that sometimes sighingly, and sometimes comfortably : 
also he would be often reading in the roll that one of 
the Shining Ones gave him by which he was refreshed. 

I beheld then, that they all went on till they came to 
the foot of the hill Difficulty, at the bottom of which 
there was a spring. There were also in the same place 



64 CHRISTIAN REACHES THE HILL DIFFICULTY. 

two other ways besides that which came straight from 
he gate : one turned to the left hand, and the other to 
he right, at the bottom of the hill ; but the narrow way 
lay ngh up the hill, and the name of the going up the 
side of the hill is called Difficulty. Christian now wen 
to the spring Isa., xlix., 10 ; and drauk thereof to re- 
fresh himself, and then began to go up the hill, saying, 

The hill, though high, I covet to ascend; 
The difficulty will not me offend ; 
For I perceive the wav to life Iies'here- 
Come, pluck up heart, let's neither faint nor fear 
Better, though difficult, the right way to go, 
than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe. 

The other two also came to the foot of the hill. But 
when they saw that the hill was steep and high, and 

a To TJ ,T ere two other ways t0 s°; and su pp°->s 

wl!r eSet "" aJS ™igl« meet again with that 
up which Christian went on the other side of the hill • 
therefore they were resolved to go in those ways. Now 
the name of one of those ways was Danger, and the 
name of the other Destruction. So the one took e 
way which ,s called Danger, which led him 
great wood; and the other took directly up the way to 
Destruction, which led him into a wide field, full of 
dark mountains, where he stumbled and fell, and rose 
no more. 

I looked then after Christian, to see him go up the 
hill where I perceived he fell from running to goin- 
and from going to clambering upon his hands and hts 
knees, because of the steepness of the place. Now 
about mid the (op rf the h . lUas a 

Arbor, made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshment 
of weary travellers. Thither, therefore, Christian got, 



HE CLIMBS THE HILL — THE ARBOR. 65 

where also he sat down to rest him : then he pulled his 
roll out of his bosom, and read therein to his comfort ; 
he also now began afresh to take a review of the coat 
or garment that was given him as he stood by the 
cross. Thus pleasing himself awhile, he at lasjt fell into 
a slumber, and thence into a fast sleep, which detained 
him in that place until it was almost night ; and in his 
sleep his roll fell out of his hand. Now as he was 
sleeping, there came one to him, and awaked him, 
saving, "Go to the ant thou sluggard; consider her 
ways and be wise," Prov., vi., 6. And with that 
Christian suddenly started up, and sped him on his way, 
and went apace till he came to the top of the hill. 

Now when he was got up to the top of the hill, there 
came two men running to meet him amain ; the name 
of the one was Timorous, and of the other Mistrust : to 
whom Christian said, Sirs, what's the matter? you run 
the wrong way. Timorous answered, that they were 
going to the city of Zion, and had got up that difficult 
place : but, said he, the farther we go the more danger 
we meet with ; wherefore we turned, and are going back 
again. 

Yes, said Mistrust, for just before us lie a couple of 
lions in the way, whether sleeping or waking we know 
not, and we could not think, if we came within reach, 
but they would presently pull us in pieces. 

Chr. Then said Christian, You make me afraid ; but 
whither shall I fly to be safe? If 1 go back to my own 
country, that is prepared for fire and brimstone, and 
I shall certainly perish there ; if I can get to the celes- 
tial city, I am sure to be in safety there ; I must venture. 
To go back is nothing but death : to go forward is fear 
of death and life everlasting beyond it : I will yet go 
forward. So Mistrust and Timorous ran down the hill, 



66 HE MISSES HIS ROLL. 

and Christian went on his way. But thinking again of 
what he heard from the man, he felt in his bosom for 
his roll, that he might read therein, and be comforted ; 
but he felt and found it not. Then was Christian in 
great distress, and knew not what to do ; for he wanted 
that which used to relieve him and that which should 
have been his pass into the celestial city. Here, there- 
fore, he began to be much perplexed, and knew not 
what to do. At last he bethought himself that he had 
slept in the arbor that is on the side of the hill ; and 
falling down upon his knees, he asked God forgiveness 
for that his foolish act, and then went back to look for 
his roll. But all the way he went back, who can suffi- 
ciently set forth the sorrow of Christian's heart ? Some- 
times he sighed, sometimes he wept, and oftentimes he 
chid himself for being so foolish to fall asleep in that 
place, which was erected only for a little refreshment 
from his weariness. Thus, therefore, he went back, 
carefully looking on this side and on that, all the way 
as he went, if happily he might find his roll that had 
been his comfort so many times in his journey. He 
went thus till he came again within sight of the arbor 
where he sat and slept ; but that sight renewed his sor- 
rows the more, by bringing again even afresh, his evil 
of sleeping unto his mind, Rev., ii., 4; I Thess., v., 6-8. 
Thus, therefore, he now went on, bewailing his sinful 
sleep, saying, O wretched man that I am, that I should 
sleep in the day time ! that I should sleep in the midst 
of difficulty ! that I should so indulge the flesh as to use 
that rest for ease to my flesh which the Lord of the hill 
hath erected only for the relief of the spirits of pilgrims ! 
How many steps have I taken in vain ! Thus it hap- 
pened to Israel ; for their sin they were sent back again 
by the way of the Red Sea ; and I am made to tread 



HE GOES TO THE ARBOR AND FINDS HIS ROLL. 67 

those steps with sorrow, which I might have trod with 
delight had it not been for this sinful sleep. How far 
might I have been on my way by this time ! I am 
made to tread those steps thrice over, which I needed 
not to have trod but once : yea, now also I am like to 
be benighted, for the day is almost spent. O that I 
had not slept ! 

Now by this time he was come to the arbor again, 
where for a while he sat down and wept ; but at last 
( as Providence would have it ) looking sorrowfully 
down under the settle, there he espied his roll, the 
which he with trembling and haste catched up, and put 
it into his bosom. But who can now tell how joyful 
this man was when he had gotten his roll again ? For 
this roll was the assurance of his life, and acceptance 
at the desired haven. Therefore he laid it up in his 
bosom, gave thanks to God for directing his eye to the 
place where it lay, and with joy and tears betook him- 
self again to his journey. But oh how nimbly now did 
he go up the rest of the hill ! Yet, before he got up, 
the sun went down upon Christian ; and this made him 
again recall the vanity of his sleeping to his remem- 
brance ; and thus he again began to condole with him- 
self: O thou sinful sleep ! how for thy sake am I like to be 
benighted in my journey ! I must walk without the sun, 
darkness must cover the path of my feet and I must 
hear the noise of the doleful creatures, because of my 
sinful sleep! Now also he remembered the story that 
Mistrust and Timorous told him, of how they were 
affrighted with the sight of the lions. Then said Chris- 
tian to himself again, These beasts range in the night 
for their prey, and if they should meet with me in the 
dark, how should I shift them? how should I escape 
being by them torn in pieces? Thus he went on his 



68 THE PALACE CALLED BEAUTIFUL — THE LIONS. 

way. But while he was thus bewailing his unhappy 
miscarriage, he lift up his eyes, and behold there was a 
very stately palace before him, the name of which was 
Beautiful, and it stood just by the highway-side, Rev., 
iii., 2; 1 Thess., v., 7, 8. 

So I saw in my dream, that he made haste, and 
went forward, that if possible he might get lodging 
there. Now before he had gone far he entered into 
a very narrow passage, which was about a furlong off 
the Porter's lodge ; and looking very narrowly before 
him as he went, he espied two lions in the way. Now, 
thought he, I see the dangers that Mistrust and Timo- 
rous were driven back by. (The lions were chained, 
but he saw not the chains.) Then he was afraid, and 
thought also himself to go back after them ; for he 
thought nothing but death was before him. But the 
Porter at the lodge, whose name is Watchful, perceiv- 
ing that Christian made a halt, as if he would go back, 
cried unto him, saying, Is thy strength so small? 
Mark, iv., 40. Fear not the lions, for they are chained, 
and are placed there for trial of faith where it is, and 
for discovery of those that have none : keep in the 
midst of the path, and no hurt shall come unto thee. 

Then I saw that he went on trembling for fear of 
the lions ; but taking good heed to the directions of the 
Porter : he heard them roar, but they did him no harm. 
Then he clapped his hands, and went on till he came 
and stood before the gate where the Porter was. Then 
said Christian to the Porter, Sir, what house is this ? 
and may I lodge here to-night ? The Porter answered, 
This house was built by the Lord of the hill, and he 
built it for the relief and security of pilgrims. Then 
Porter also asked whence he was, and whither he was 
going. 



WATCHFUL, THE PORTER. 69 

Chr. I am come from the city of Destruction, and 
am going to Mount Zion : but because the sun is now 
set, I desire, if I may, to lodge here to-night. 

Port. What is your name ? 

Chr. My name is now Christian, but my name at the 
first was Graceless : I came of the race of Japheth, 
whom God will persuade to dwell in the tents of Shem, 
Gen., ix., 27. 

Port. But how doth it happen that you come so 
late ? The sun is set. 

Chr. I had been here sooner, but that, wretched 
man as I am, I slept in the arbor that stands on the. hill 
side ! Nay, I had, notwithstanding that, been here 
much sooner, but that in my sleep I lost my evidence 
and came without it to the brow of the hill : and then 
feeling for it, and finding it not, I was forced with sor- 
row of heart to go back to the place where I slept my 
sleep, where I found it ; and now I am come. 

Port. Well, I will call out one of the virgins of this 
place, who will, if she likes your talk, bring you in to 
the rest of the family, according to the rules of the 
house. So Watchful, the Porter, rang a bell, at the 
sound of which came out of the door of the house a 
grave and beautiful damsel, named Discretion, and 
asked why she was called. 

The Porter answered, This man is on a journey from 
the city of Destruction to Mount Zion ; but being 
weary and benighted, he asked me if he might lodge 
here to-night: so I told him I would call for thee, who, 
after discourse had with him, mayest do as seemeth 
thee good, even according to the law of the house. 

Then she asked him whence he was, and whither he 
was going ; and he told her. She asked him also how 
he got into the way ; and he told her. Then she asked 



JO TALK WITH PIETY. 

him what he had seen and met with in the way, and he 
told her. And at last she asked his name. So he said, 
It is Christian ; and I have so much the more a desire 
to lodge here to-night, because, by what I perceive, this 
place was built by the Lord of the hill for the relief 
and security of pilgrims. So she smiled, but the water 
stood in her eyes ; and after a little pause she said, I 
will call forth two or three more of the family. So she 
ran to the door, and called out Prudence, Piety, and 
Charity, who, after a little more discourse with him, 
had him into the family ; and many of them meeting 
him at the threshold of the house, said, Come in, thou 
blessed of the Lord ; this house was built by the Lord 
of the hill on purpose to entertain such pilgrims in. 
Then he bowed his head, and followed them into the 
house. So when he was come in and sat down, they 
gave him something to drink, and consented together 
that, until supper was ready, some of them should have 
some particular discourse with Christian, for the best 
improvement of time ; and they appointed Piety, Pru- 
dence, and Charity to discourse with him ; and thus 
they began. 

Piety. Come, good Christian, since we have been 
so loving to you to receive you into our house this 
night, let us, if perhaps we may better ourselves there- 
by, talk with you of all things that have happened to 
you in your pilgrimage. 

Chr. With a very good will ; and I am glad that 
you are so well disposed. 

Piety. What moved you at first to betake yourself 
to a pilgrim's life ? 

Chr. I was driven out of my native country by a 
dreadful sound that was in mine ears ; to wit, that una- 
voidable destruction did attend me, if I abode in that 
place where I was. 



PRUDENCE, AND CHARITY. J I 

Piety. But how did it happen that you came out of 
your country this way ? 

Chr. It was as God would have it ; for when I was 
under the fears of destruction I did not know whither 
to go ; but by chance there came a man, even to me, as 
I was trembling and weeping, whose name is Evangel- 
ist, and he directed me to the Wicket-Gate, which else 
I should never have found, and so set me into the way 
that hath led me directly to this house. 

Piety. But did you not come by the house of the 
Interpreter ? 

Chr. Yes, and did see such things there, the re- 
membrance of which will stick by me as long as I live, 
especially three things ; to wit, how Christ, in despite 
of Satan, maintains his work of grace in the heart ; 
how the man had sinned himself quite out of hopes of 
God's mercy, and also the dream of him that thought 
in his sleep the day of judgment was come. 

Piety. Why, did you hear him tell his dream? 

Chr. Yes, and a dreadful one it was, I thought; it 
made my heart ache as he was telling of it ; but yet I 
am glad I heard it. 

Piety. Was this all you saw at the house of the 
Interpreter? 

Chr. No ; he took me, and had me where he showed 
me a stately palace, and how the people were clad in 
gold that were in it ; and how there came a venturous 
man, and cut his way through the armed men that 
stood in the door to keep him out ; and how he was bid 
to come in, and win eternal glory. Methought those 
things did ravish my heart. I would have stayed at 
that good man's house a twelvemonth, but that I knew 
I had farther to go. 

Piety. And what saw you else in the way? 



72 TALK WITH PIETY, 

Chr. Saw? Why, I went but a little further, and I 
saw One, as I thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon 
a tree ; and the very sight of him made my burden fall 
off my back ; for I groaned under a very heavy bur- 
den, but then it fell down from off me. It was a 
strange thing to me, for I never saw such a thing 
before: yea, and while I stood looking up (for then I 
could not forbear looking), three Shining Ones came 
to me. One of them testified that my sins were for- 
given me, another stripped me of my rags, and gave 
me this broidered coat which you see ; and the third 
set the mark which you see in my forehead, and gave 
me this sealed roll (and with that he plucked it out of 
his bosom) . 

Piety. But you saw more than this, did you not? 

Chr. The things that I have told you were the best; 
yet some other matters I saw, as namely, I saw three 
men, Simple, Sloth, and Presumption, lie asleep, a 
little out of the way, as I came, with irons upon their 
heels; but do you think I could awake them? I also 
saw Formality and Hypocrisy come tumbling over the 
wall, to go, as they pretended, to Zion ; but they were 
quickly lost, even as I myself did tell them, but they 
would not believe. But, above all, I found it hard 
work to get up this hill, and as hard to come by the 
lions 1 mouths : and truly, if it had not been for the 
good man, the porter, that stands at the gate, I do not 
know but that, after all, I might have gone back again, 
but I thank God I am here, and thank you for receiving 
me. 

Then Prudence thought good to ask him a few ques- 
tions, and desired his answer to them. 

Pr. Do you not think sometimes of the country 
from whence you came? 



PRUDENCE, AND CHARITY. 73 

Chr. Yea ; but with much shame and detestation. 
Truly, if I had been mindful of that country from 
whence I came out, I might have had opportunity to 
have returned, but now I desire a better country, that 
is, a heavenly one, Heb., xi., 15, 16. 

Pr. Do you not yet bear away with some of the 
things that then you were conversant withal? 

Chr. Yes, but greatly against my will ; especially 
my inward and carnal cogitations, with which all my 
countrymen, as well as myself, were delighted. But 
now all those things are my grief; and might I but 
choose mine own things, I would choose never to think 
of those things more : but when I would be a doing 
that which is best, that which is worst is with me, 
Rom., vii., 15, 21. 

Pr. Do you not find sometimes as if those things 
were vanquished, which at other times are your per- 
plexity? 

Chr. Yes, but that is but seldom ; but they are to 
me golden hours in which such things happen to me. 

Pr. Can you remember by what means you find 
your annoyances at times as if they were vanquished ? 

Chr. Yes ; when I think of what I saw at the cross, 
that will do it ; and when I look upon my broidered 
coat, that will do it ; and when I look into the roll 
that I carry in my bosom, that will do it ; and when 
my thoughts wax warm about whither I am going, 
that will do it. 

Pr. And what is it that makes you so desirous to 
go to Mount Zion? 

Chr. Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did 
hang on the cross ; and there I hope to be rid of all 
those things that to this day are in me an annoyance 
to me: there, they say there is no death, Isa., xxv., 8; 



74 TALK WITH PIETY, 

Rev., xxi., 4; and there I shall dwell with such 
company as I like best. For, to tell you the truth, I 
love Him because I was by him eased of my burden ; 
and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain 
be where I shall die no more, and with the company 
that shall continually cry, Holy, Holy, Holy. 

Then said Charity to Christian. Have you a family, 
are you a married man? 

Chr. I have a wife and four small children. 

Char. And why did you not bring them along with 
you? 

Chr. Then Christian wept, and said, Oh, how 
willingly would I have done it ! but they were all of 
them utterly averse to my going on pilgrimage. 

Char. But you should have talked with them, and 
have endeavored to have shown them the danger of 
staying behind. 

Chr. So I did ; and told them also what God had 
shown to me of the destruction of our city ; but I 
seemed to them as one that mocked, and they believed 
me not, Gen., xix., 14. 

Char. And did you pray to God that he would 
bless your counsel to them ? 

Chr. Yes, and that with much affection ; for you 
must think that my wife and poor children were very 
dear to me. 

Char. But did you tell them of your own sorrow, 
and fear of destruction? for I suppose that destruction 
was visible enough to you. 

Chr. Yes, over, and over, and over. They might 
also see my fears in my countenance, in my tears, and 
also in trembling under the apprehension of the judg- 
ment that did hang over our heads ; but all was not 
sufficient to prevail with them to come with me. 



PRUDENCE, AND CHARITY. 75 

Char. But what could they say for themselves why 
they came not? 

Chr. Why, my wife was afraid of losing this world, 
and my children were given to the foolish delights of 
youth ; so, what by one thing, and what by another, 
they left me to wander in this manner alone. 

Char. But did you not with your vain life damp 
all that you, by words, used by way of persuasion to 
bring them away with you? 

Chr. Indeed I cannot commend my life, for I am 
conscious to myself of many failings therein. I know 
also, that a man, by his conversation, may soon over- 
throw what by argument or persuasion he doth labor 
to fasten upon others for their good. Yet this I can 
say, I was very wary of giving them occasion, by any 
unseemly action, to make them averse to going 
on pilgrimage. Yea, for this very thing, they would 
tell me I was too precise, and that I denied myself of 
things ( for their sakes ) in which they saw no evil. 
Nay, I think I may say, that if what they saw in me 
did hinder them, it was my great tenderness in sinning 
against God, or of doing any wrong to my neighbor. 

Char. Indeed, Cain hated his brother, i John, iii., 
12 ; because his own works were evil, and his brother's 
righteous ; and if thy wife and children have been 
offended with thee for this, they thereby show them- 
selves to be implacable to good ; thou hast delivered 
thy soul from their blood, Ezek., iii., 19. 

Now I saw in my dream, that thus they sat talking 
together until supper was ready. So when they had 
made ready they sat down to meat. Now the table 
was furnished with fat things, and wine that was well 
refined ; and all their talk at the table was about the 
Lord of the hill ; as namely, about what he had done, 



76 THE WONDERS SHOWN TO CHRISTIAN. 

and wherefore he did what he did, and why he had 
builded that house ; and by what they said, I perceived 
that he had been a great warrior, and had fought with 
and slain him that had the power of death, Heb., ii., 
14, 15 ; but not without great danger to himself which 
made me love him the more. 

For, as they said, and as I believe, said Christian, he 
did it with the loss of much blood. But that which put 
the glory of grace into all he did, was, that he did it 
out of pure love to this country. And besides, there 
were some of them of the household that said they had 
been and spoke with him since he did die on the cross ; 
and they have attested, that they had it from his own 
lips, that he is such a lover of poor pilgrims, that the 
like is not to be found from the east to the west. 
They, moreover, gave an instance of what they affirmed, 
and that was, he had stripped himself of his glory that 
he might do this for the poor ; and that they had heard 
him say and affirm, that he would not dwell in the 
mountain of Zion alone. They said, morever, that he 
had made many pilgrims princes, though by nature 
they were beggars born, and their original had been 
the dunghill, 1 Sam., ii., 8; Ps., cxiii., 7. 

Thus they discoursed together till late at night, and 
after they had committed themselves to their Lord for 
their protection they betook themselves to rest. The 
pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, whose win- 
dow opened toward the sun-rising. The name of the 
chamber was Peace, where he slept till break of day, 
and then he awoke and sang, 

Where am I now ? Is this the love and care 
Of Jesus, for the men that pilgrims are, 
Thus to provide that I should be forgiven, 
And dwell already the next door to heaven. 



THE WONDERS SHOWN TO CHRISTIAN. JJ 

So in the morning they all got up ; and, after sorhe 
more discourse, they told him that he should not de- 
part till they had shown him the rarities of that place. 
And first they had him into the study, where they 
showed him records of the greatest antiquity ; in which, 
as I remember my dream, they showed him the pedigree 
of the Lord of the hill, that he was the Son of the An- 
cient of days, and came by that eternal generation. 
Here also was more fully recorded the acts that he had 
done, and the names of iuany hundreds that he had 
taken into his service ; and how he had placed them 
in such habitations, that could neither by length of 
days, nor decays of nature, be dissolved. 

Then they read to him some of the worthy acts that 
some of his servants had done ; as how they had sub- 
dued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained prom- 
ises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence 
of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness 
were made strong, waxed valiant in fight and turned to 
flight the armies of the aliens, Heb., xi., 33, 34. 

Then they read again another part of the records of 
the house, where it was shown how willing their Lord 
was to receive into his favor any, even any, though they 
in time past had offered great affronts to his person 
and proceedings. Here also were several other histories 
of many other famous things, of all which Christian 
had a view ; as of things both ancient and modern, 
together with prophecies and predictions of things that 
have their certain accomplishment, both to the dread 
and amazement of enemies, and the comfort and solace 
of pilgrims. 

The next day they took him, and had him into the 
armory, where they showed him all manner of furniture 
which their Lord had provided for pilgrims, as sword, 



78 THE WONDERS SHOWN TO CHRISTIAN. 

sliield, hemlet, breastplate, all-prayer, and shoes that 
would not wear out. And there was here enough of 
this to harness out as many men for the service of their 
Lord as there be stars in the heaven for multitude. 

They also showed him some of the engines with which 
some of his servants had done wonderful things. They 
showed him Moses 1 rod, the hammer and nail with 
which Jael slew Sisera ; the pitchers, trumpets and 
lamps too, with which Gideon put to flight the armies 
of Midian. Then they showed him the ox's goad 
wherewith Shamgar slew six hundred men. They 
showed him also the jaw-bone with which Samson did 
such mighty feats. They show r ed him moreover the 
sling and stone with which David slew Goliath of Gath, 
and the sword also with which their Lord will kill the 
man of sin, in the day that he shall rise up to the prey. 
They showed him besides many excellent things, with 
which Christian was much delighted. This done, they 
went to their rest again. 

Then I saw in my dream, that on the morrow he 
got up to go forward, but they desired him to stay till 
the next day also ; and then, said they, we will, if the 
day be clear, show you the Delectable Mountains ; which 
they said, would yet further add to his comfort, because 
they were nearer the desired haven than the place where 
at present he was ; so he consented and stayed. When 
the morning was up, they had him to the top of the 
house, and bid him look south. So he did, and behold, 
at a great distance, he saw a most pleasant, mountain- 
ous country, beautified with woods, vineyards, fruits of 
all sorts, flowers also, with springs and fountains, very 
delectable to behold, Isa., xxxiii., 16, 17. Then he 
asked the name of the country. They said it was Im- 
manuePs land ; and it is as common, said they, as this 



CHRISTIAN IS ARMED AND PURSUES HIS JOURNEY. 79 

hill is, to and for all the pilgrims. And when thou 
comest there, from thence, said they, thou mayest see 
to the gate of the celestial city, as the shepherds that 
live there will make appear. 

Now he bethought himself of setting forward, and 
they were willing he should. But first, said they, let 
us go again into the armory. So they did, and when 
he came there they harnessed him from head to foot 
with what was of proof, lest perhaps he should meet 
with assaults in the way. He being therefore thus 
accoutred, walked out with his friends to the gate ; and 
there he asked the Porter if he saw any pilgrim pass 
by. Then the Porter answered, Yes. 

Pray did you know him ? said he. 

Port. I asked his name, and he told me it was 
Faithful. 

Chr. O, said Christian, I know him ; he is my 
townsman, my near neighbor; he comes from the place 
where I was born. How far do you think he may be 
before ? 

Port. He is got by this time below the hill. 

Well, said Christian, good Porter, the Lord be with 
thee, and add to thy blessings much increase for the 
kindness thou hast showed to me. 

Then he began to go forward ; but Discretion, Piety, 
Charity, and Prudence, would accompany him down to 
the foot of the hill. So they went on together, reit- 
erating their former discourses, till they came to go 
down the hill. Then said Christian, As it was difficult 
coming up, so, so far as I can see, it is dangerous going 
down. Yes, said Prudence, so it is ; for it is a hard 
matter for a man to go down into the valley of Humilia- 
tion, as thou art now, and to catch no slip by the way ; 
therefore, said they, are we come out to accompany 



8o CHRISTIAN MEETS APOLLYON. 

thee down the hill. So he began to go down, but very 
warily ; yet he caught a slip or two. 

Then I saw in my dream, that these good compan- 
ions, when Christian was got down to the bottom of 
the hill, gave him a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and 
a cluster of raisins ; and then he went his way. 

But now, in this valley of Humiliation, poor Chris- 
tian was hard put to it ; for he had gone but a little 
way before he espied a foul fiend coming over the field 
to meet him : his name is Apollyon. Then did Chris- 
tian begin to be afraid, and to cast in his mind whether 
to go back, or to stand his ground. But he considered 
again that he had no armor for his back, and therefore 
thought that to turn the back to him might give him 
greater advantage with ease to pierce him with his 
darts ; therefore he resolved to venture, and stand his 
ground ; for, thought he, had I no more in mine eye 
than the saving of my life, it would be the best way to 
stand. 

So he went on, and Apollyon met him. Now the 
monster was hideous to behold ; he was clothed with 
scales like a fish, and they are his pride ; he had wings 
like a dragon, and feet like a bear, and out of his belly 
came fire and smoke ; and his mouth was as the mouth 
of a lion. When he came up to Christian he beheld 
him with a disdainful countenance, and thus began to 
question with him. 

Apollyon. Whence come you, and whither are you 
bound ? 

Chr. I am come from the city of Destruction, which 
is the place of all evil, and I am going to the city of 
Zion. 

Apol. By this I perceive that thou art one of my 
subjects ; for all that country is mine, and I am the 



apollyon's deceitful discourse. 8 1 

prince and god of it. How is it then, that thou hast 
run away from thy king ? Were it not that I hope that 
thou mayest do me more service, I would strike thee 
now at one blow to the ground. 

Chr. I was, indeed, born in your dominions, but 
your service was hard, and your wages such as a man 
could not live on ; for the wages of sin is death, Rom., 
vi., 23 ; therefore when I was come to years, I did, as 
other considerate persons do, look out, if perhaps I 
might mend myself. 

Apol. There is no prince that will thus lightly lose 
his subjects, neither will I as yet lose thee ; but since 
thou complainest of thy service and wages, be content 
to go back, and what our country will afford I do here 
promise to give thee. 

Chr. But I have let myself to another, even to the 
King of princes ; and how can I with fairness go back 
with thee ? 

Apol. Thou hast done in this according to the 
proverb, " changed a bad for a worse ; " but it is ordi- 
nary for those that have professed themselves his ser- 
vants, after a while to give him the slip, and return 
again to me. Do thou so too, and all shall be well. 

Chr. I have given him my faith, and sworn my alle- 
giance to him ; how then can I go back from this, and 
not be hanged as a traitor ? 

Apol. Thou didst the same to me, and yet I am 
willing to pass by all, if now thou wilt yet turn again 
and go back. 

Chr. What I promised thee was in my nonage : and 
besides, I count that the Prince, under whose banner 
now I stand, is able to absolve me, yea, and to pardon 
also what I did as to my compliance with thee. And 
besides, O thou destroying Apollyon, to speak truth, I 



82 apollyon's deceitful discourse. 

like his service, his wages, his servants, his govern- 
ment, his company, and country, better than thine; 
therefore leave off to persuade me further ; I am his 
servant, and I will follow him. 

Apol. Consider again, when thou art in cool blood, 
what thou art like to meet with in the way that thou 
goest. Thou knowest that for the most part his ser- 
vants come to an ill end, because they are transgressors 
against me and my ways. How many of them have 
been put to shameful deaths! And besides, thou 
countest his service better than mine; whereas he 
never came yet from the place where he is, to deliver 
any that served him out of my hands; but as for me, 
how many times, as all the world very well knows, have 
I delivered, either by power or fraud, those that have 
faithfully served me, from him and his, though taken 
by them ! And so I will deliver thee. 

Ckr. His forbearing at present to deliver them is on 
purpose to try their love, whether they will cleave to 
him to the end ; and as for the ill end thou sayest they 
come to, that is most glorious in their account. For, 
for the present deliverance, they do not much expect 
it ; for they stay for their glory ; and then they shall 
have it, when their Prince comes in his, and the glory 
of the angels. 

Apol. Thou hast already been unfaithful in thy ser- 
vice to him ; and how dost thou think to receive wages 
of him ? 

Chr. Wherein, O Apollyon, have I been unfaithful 

to him ? 

Apol. Thou didst faint at first setting out when 
thou wast almost choked in the Gulf of Despond. 
Thou didst attempt wrong ways to be rid of thy burden, 
whereas thou shouldst have stayed till thy Prince had 



CONFLICT BETWEEN CHRISTIAN AND APOLLYON. 83 

taken it off. Thou didst sinfully sleep, and lose thy 
choice things. Thou wast also almost persuaded to go 
back at the sight of the lions. And when thou talkest 
of thy journey, and of what thou hast seen and heard, 
thou art inwardly desirous of vain glory in all that thou 
sayest or doest. 

Chr. All this is true, and much more which thou 
hast left out ; but the Prince whom I serve and honor 
is merciful and ready to forgive. But besides, these 
infirmities possessed me in thy country ; for there I sucked 
them in, and I have groaned under them, been sorry 
for them, and have obtained pardon of my Prince. 

Then Apollyon broke out into a grievous rage, say- 
ing, I am an enemy to this Prince ; I hate his person, 
his laws, and people ; I am come out on purpose to 
withstand thee. 

Chr. Apollyon, beware what you do, for I am in the 
king's highway, the way of holiness ; therefore take 
heed to yourself. 

Then Apollyon straddled quite over the whole 
breadth of the way, and said, I am void of fear in 
this matter. Prepare thyself to die ; for I swear by 
my infernal den, that thou shalt go no farther : here 
will I spill thy soul. And with that he threw a flaming 
dart at his breast ; but Christian had a shield in his 
hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented the 
danger of that. 

Then did Christian draw, for he saw it was time to 
bestir him ; and Apollyon as fast made at him, throw- 
ing darts as thick as hail; by the which, notwithstand- 
ing all that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon 
wounded him in his head, his hand, and foot. This 
made Christian give a little back ; Apollyon, therefore, 
followed his work amain, and Christian asiain took 



84 CONFLICT BETWEEN CHRISTIAN AND APOLLYON. 

courage, and resisted as manfully as he could. This 
sore combat lasted for above half a day, even till 
Christian was almost quite spent. For you must know, 
that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs 
grow weaker and weaker. 

Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to 
gather up close to Christian, and wrestling with him, 
gave him a dreadful fall ; and with that Christian's sword 
flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon, I am sure of 
thee now. And with that he had almost pressed him to 
death ; so that Christian began to despair of life. But, 
as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching his 
last blow, thereby to make a full end of this good man, 
Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword, 
and caught it, saying, Rejoice not against me, O mine 
enemy; when I fall, I shall arise, Micah, vii., 8; and 
with that gave him a deadly thrust, which made him 
give back as one that had received his mortal wound. 
Christian perceiving that, made at him again, saying, 
Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors 
through Him that loved us, Rom., viii., 37. And 
with that Apollyon spread forth his dragon's wings, 
and sped him away, that Christian saw him no more, 
Jam., iv., 7. 

In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had 
seen and heard as I did, what yelling and hideous 
roaring Apollyon made all the time of the fight ; he 
spake like a dragon : and on the other side, what sighs 
and groans burst from Christian's heart. I never saw 
him all the while give so much as one pleasant look, 
till he perceived he had wounded Apollyon with his 
two-edged sword ; then, indeed, did he smile, and look 
upward ; but it was the dreadfullest fight that I ever 
saw. 



christian's victory. 85 

So when the battle was over, Christian said, I will 
here give thanks to Him that hath delivered me out of 
the mouth of the lion ; to him that did help me against 
Apollyon. And so he did, saying, 

Great Beelzebub, the captain of this fiend, 
Design'd my ruin ; therefore to this end 
He sent him harness'd out, and he with rage, 
That hellish was, did fiercely me engage : 
But blessed Michael helped me, and I, 
By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly. 
Therefore to Him let me give lasting praise, 
And thank and bless his holy name always. 

Then there came to him a hand with some of the 
leaves of the tree of life, the which Christian took, and 
applied to the wounds that he had received in the battle, 
and was healed immediately. He also sat down in that 
place to eat bread, and to drink of the bottle that was 
given to him a little before ; so being refreshed, he 
addressed himself to his journey, with his sword drawn 
in his hand ; for, he said, I know not but some other 
enemy may be at hand. But he met with no other 
affront from Apollyon quite through this valley. 

Now at the end of the valley was another, called the 
Valley of the Shadow of Death ; and Christian must 
needs go through it, because the way to the Celestial 
City lay through the midst of it. Now this valley is a 
very solitary place : the prophet Jeremiah thus describes 
it : "A wilderness, a land of deserts and pits, a land of 
drought, and of the Shadow of Death, a land that no 
man 1 ' (but a Christian) " passeth through, and where 
no man dwelt," Jer., ii., 6. 

Now here Christian was worse put to it than in his 
fight with Apollyon, as by the sequel you shall see. 



86 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 

I saw then in my dream, that when Christian was got 
to the borders of the Shadow of Death, there met him 
two men, children of them that brought up an evil report 
of the good land, Num., xiii., 32 ; making haste to go 
back ; to whom Christian spake as follows. 

Ciir. Whither are you going? 

They said, Back, back, and we would have you do 
so too, if either life or peace is prized by you. 

Why, what's the matter? said Christian. 

Matter ? said they ; we were going that way as you 
are going, and went as far as we durst : and indeed 
we were almost past coming back ; for had we gone a 
little further, we had not been here to bring the news 
to thee: 

But what have you met with? said Christian. 

Men. Why, we were almost in the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death, but that by good hap we looked 
before us, and saw the danger before we came to it ; 
Ps. xliv., 19; cvii., 19. 

But what have you seen? said Christian. 

Men. Seen ! why the valley itself, which is as dark 
as pitch : we also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, and 
dragons of the pit : we heard also in that valley a con- 
tinual howling and yelling, as of a people under unutter- 
able misery, who there sat bound in affliction and irons ; 
and over that valley hang the discouraging clouds of 
confusion : death also doth always spread his wings over 
it. In a word, it is every whit dreadful, being utterly 
without order, Job, iii., 5 ; x., 22. 

Then, said Christian, I perceive not yet, by what 
you have said, but that this is my way to the desired 
haven, Ps. xliv., 18, 19; Jer., ii, 6. 

Men. Be it thy way, we will not choose it for ours. 

So they parted, and Christian went on his way, but 



THE HORRORS OF THIS VALLEY. 87 

still with his sword drawn in his hand, for fear lest he 
should be assaulted. 

I saw then in my dream, so far as this valley reached, 
there was on the right hand a very deep ditch ; that 
ditch is it, into which the blind have led the blind in 
all ages, and have both there miserably perished. 
Again, behold, on the left hand there was a very dan- 
gerous quag, into which, if even a good man falls, he 
finds no bottom for his foot to stand on : into that quag 
king David once did fall, and had no doubt therein 
been smothered, had not He that is able plucked him 
out, Ps., lxix., 14. 

The pathway was here also exceeding narrow, and 
therefore good Christian was the more put to it; for 
when he sought, in the dark, to shun the ditch on the 
one hand, he was ready to tip over into the mire on the 
other : also, when he sought to escape the mire, with- 
out great carefulness he would be ready to fall into the 
ditch. Thus he went on, and I heard him here sigh 
bitterly; for beside the danger mentioned above, the 
pathway was here so dark that ofttimes, when he lifted 
up his foot to go forward, he knew not where, or upon 
what he should set it next. 

About the midst of this valley I perceived the mouth 
of hell to be, and it stood also hard by the wayside. 
Now, thought Christian, what shall I do? And ever 
and anon the flame and smoke would come out in such 
abundance, with sparks and hideous noises (things 
that cared not for Christian's sword, as did Apollyon 
before), that he was forced to put up his sword, and 
betake himself to another weapon, called All-prayer, 
Eph., vi., 18; so he cried, in my hearing, O Lord, I 
beseech thee, deliver my soul, Ps., cxvi., 4. Thus he 
went on a great while, yet still the flames would be 



88 THE HORRORS OF THIS VALLEY. 

reaching toward him ; also he heard doleful voices, and 
rushings to and fro, so that sometimes he thought he 
should be torn in pieces, or trodden down like mire in 
the streets. This frightful sight was seen, and these 
dreadful noises were heard by him for several miles 
together ; and coming to a place where he thought he 
heard a company of fiends coming forward to meet him, 
he stopped and began to muse what he had best to do. 
Sometimes he had half a thought to go back ; then 
again he thought he might be half way through the 
valley. He remembered also, how he had already van- 
quished many a danger ; and that the danger of going 
back might be much more than for to go forward. So 
he resolved to go on ; yet the fiends seemed to come 
nearer and nearer. But when they were come even 
almost at him, he cried out with a most vehement voice, 
I will walk in the strength of the Lord God. So they 
gave back, and came no farther. 

One thing I would not let slip. I took notice that 
now poor Christian was so confounded that he did not 
know his own voice ; and thus I perceived it. Just 
when he was come over against the mouth of the burn- 
ing pit, one of the wicked ones got behind him, and 
stepped up softly to him, and, whisperingly, suggested 
many grievous blasphemies to him, which he verily 
thought had proceeded from his own mind. This put 
Christian more to it than anything that he met with 
before, even to think that he should now blaspheme 
Him that he loved so much before. Yet if he could 
have helped it, he would not have done it ; but he had 
not the discretion either to stop his ears, or to know 
from whence these blasphemies came. 

When Christian had travelled in this disconsolate 
condition some considerable time, he thought he heard 



A FELLOW TRAVELLER OVERHEARD. 89 

the voice of a man, as going before him, saying, 
Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me, Ps., 
xxiii., 4. 

Then was he glad, and that for these reasons : 

First, Because he gathered from thence, that some 
who feared God were in this valley as well as himself. 

Secondly, For that he perceived God was with them 
though in that dark and dismal state. And why 
not, thought he, with me? though by reason of the im- 
pediment that attends this place, I cannot perceive it, 
Job, ix., 11. 

Thirdly, For that he hoped (could he overtake them) 
to have company by and by. So he went on, and 
called to him that was before ; but he knew not what 
to answer for that he also thought himself to be alone. 
And by and by the day broke : then said Christian, 
" He hath turned the shadow of death into the morn- 
ing," Amos, v., 8. 

Now morning being come, he looked back, not out of 
desire to return, but to see, by the light of the day, 
what hazards he had gone through in the dark. So he 
saw more perfectly the ditch that was on the one hand, 
and the quag that was on the other ; also how narrow 
the way was which led betwixt them both. Also now 
he saw the hobgoblins, and satyrs, and dragons of the 
pit, but all afar off; for after break of day they came 
not nigh, yet they were discovered to him, according 
to that which is written " He discovereth deep things 
out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the shadow 
of death. 11 Job, xii., 22. 

Now was Christian much affected with this deliver- 
ance from all the dangers of his solitary way ; which 
dangers, though he feared them much before, yet he 



90 THE GIANTS, POPE AND PAGAN. 

saw them more clearly now, because the light of the 
day made them conspicuous to him. And about this 
time the sun was rising, and this was another mercy to 
Christian ; for you must note, that though the first 
part of the Valley of the Shadow of Death was danger- 
ous, yet this second part, which he was yet to go, was, 
if possible, far more dangerous ; for, from the place 
where he now stood, even to the end of the valley, the 
way was all along set so full of snares, traps, gins, and 
nets here, and so full of pits, pitfalls, deep holes, and 
shelvings down there, that had it now been dark, as it 
was when he came the first part of the way, had he had 
a thousand souls, they had in reason been cast away ; 
but, as I said, just now the sun was rising. Then said 
he, " His candle shineth on my head, and by his light 
I go through darkness," Job, xxix., 3. 

In this light, therefore he came to the end of the 
valley. Now I saw in my dream, that at the end of the 
valley lay blood, bones, ashes, and mangled bodies of 
men, even of pilgrims that had gone this way formerly ; 
and while I was musing what should be the reason, I 
espied a little before me a cave, where two giants, Pope 
and Pagan, dwelt in old time, by whose power and 
tyranny the men, whose bones, blood, ashes, etc., lay 
there; were cruelly put to death. But by this place Chris- 
tian went without much danger, whereat I somewhat 
wondered ; but I have learnt since, that Pagan has been 
dead many a day ; and as for the other, though he be 
yet alive, he is, by reason of age, and also of the many 
shrewd brushes that he met with in his younger days, 
grown so crazy and stiff in his joints, that he can now do 
little more than sit in his cave's mouth, grinning at 
pilgrims as they go by, and biting his nails because he 
cannot come at them. 



CHRISTIAN SEES FAITHFUL. 91 

So I saw that Christian went on his way ; yet, at the 
sight of the old man that sat at the mouth of the cave, 
he could not tell what to think, especially because he 
spoke to him, though he could not go after him, saying, 
You will never mend till more of you be burned. But 
he held his peace, and set a good face on it, and so 
went by, and catched no hurt. Then sang Christian, 

Oh world of wonders, (I can say no less), 

That I should be preserved in that distress 

That I have met with here ! O blessed be 

That hand that from it hath deliver'd me ! 

Dangers in darkness, devils, hell, and sin, 

Did compass me, while I this vale was in ; 

Yea, snares, and pits, and traps, and nets did lie 

My path about, that worthless, silly 1 

Might have been catch'd, entangled, and cast down : 

But since I live, let Jesus wear the crown. 

Now as Christian went on his way, he came to a little 
ascent, which was cast up on purpose that pilgrims 
might see before them ; up there, therefore, Christian 
went ; and looking forward, he saw Faithful before him 
upon his journey. Then said Christian aloud, Ho, ho ; 
so-ho ; stay, and I will be your companion. At that 
Faithful looked behind him ; to whom Christian cried 
again, Stay, stay, till I come up to you. But Faithful 
answered, No I am upon my life, and the avenger of 
blood is behind me. 

At this Christian was somewhat moved, and putting 
to all his strength, he quickly got up with Faithful, and 
did also overrun him ; so the last was first. Then did 
Christian vain-gloriously smile, because he had gotten 
the start of his brother, but not taking good heed to 
his feet, he suddenly stumbled and fell, and could not 
rise again until Faithful came up to help him. 



92 CHRISTIAN OVERTAKES FAITHFUL. 

Then I saw in my dream, they went very lovingly on 
together, and had sweet discourse of all things that 
had happened to them in their pilgrimage ; and thus 
Christian began : 

Chr. My honored and well-beloved brother Faithful, 
I am glad that I have overtaken you, and that God has 
so tempered our spirits that we can walk as companions 
in this so pleasant a path. 

Faith. 1 had thought, dear friend, to have had your 
company quite from our town ; but you did get the 
start of me ; wherefore I was forced to come thus much 
of the way alone. 

Chr. How long did you stay in the City of Destruc- 
tion before you set out after me on your pilgrimage? 

Faith. Till I could stay no longer; for there was 
great talk presently after you were gone out, that our 
city would, in a short time, with fire from heaven be 
burnt down to the ground. 

Chr. What! did your neighbors talk so? 

Faith. Yes, it was for a while in everybody's 
mouth. 

Chr. What ! and did no more of them but you 
come out to escape the danger? 

Faith. Though there was, as I said, a great talk 
thereabout, yet I do not think they did firmly believe 
it. For in the heat of the discourse, I heard some of 
them deridingly speak of you, and of your desperate 
journey ; for so they called this your pilgrimage. But 
I did believe, and do still, that the end of our city will 
be with fire and brimstone from above ; and therefore I 
have made my escape. 

Chr. Did you hear no talk of neighbor Pliable? 

Faith. Yes, Christian, I heard that he followed you 
till he came to the Slough of Despond, where, as some 



DISCOURSE OF CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL. 93 

said, he fell in; but he would not be known to have so 
done ; but I am sure he was soundly bedabbled with 
that kind of dirt. 

Chr. And what said the neighbors to him? 

Faith. He hath, since his going back, been had 
greatly in derision, and that among all sorts of people : 
some do mock and despise him, and scarce will any 
set him on work. He is now seven times worse than 
if he had never gone out of the city. 

Chr. But why should they be so set against him, 
since they also despise the way that he forsook ? 

Faith. O, they say, Hang him ; he is a turncoat ; he 
was not true to his profession ! 1 think God has stirred 
up even His enemies to hiss at him, and make him a 
proverb, because he hath forsaken the way, Jer., xxix., 
18, 19. 

Chr. Had you no talk with him before you came 
out? 

Faith. I met him once in the streets, but he leered 
away on the other side, as one ashamed of what he had 
done ; so I spake not to him. 

Chr. Well, at my first setting out I had hopes of 
that man ; but now I fear he will perish in the overthrow 
of the city. For it has happened to him according to 
the true proverb, " The dog is turned to his vomit 
again ; and, the sow that was washed to her wallowing 
in the mire, 2 Pet., ii., 22. 

Faith. These are my fears of him too ; but who can 
hinder that which will be? 

Well, neighbor Faithful, said Christian, let us 
leave him, and talk of things that more immediately 
concern ourselves. Tell me now what you have met 
with in the way as you came ; for I know you have met 
with some things, or else it may be writ for a wonder. 



94 DISCOURSE OF CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL. 

Faith. I escaped the slough that I perceive you fell 
into, and got up to the gate without that danger ; only 

I met with one whose name was Wanton, who had like 
to have done me mischief. 

Chr. It was well you escaped her net ; Joseph was 
hard put to it by her, and he escaped her as you did ; 
but it had like to have cost him his life, Gen., xxxix., 

I I - 13. But what did she do to you ? 

Faith. You cannot think ( but that you know some- 
thing ) what a flattering tongue she had ; she lay at me 
hard to turn aside with her, promising me all manner 
of content. 

Chr. Nay, she did not promise you the content of a 
good conscience. 

Faith. You know that I mean all carnal and fleshly 
content. 

Chr. Thank God you have escaped her ; the abhorred 
of the Lord shall fall into her ditch, Prov., xxii., 14. 

P^aith. Nay, I know not whether I did wholly escape 
her or no. 

Chr. Why, I trow, you did not consent to her 
desires ? 

Faith. No, not to defile myself; for I remembered an 
old writing that I had seen, which said, " Her steps 
take hold on hell," Prov., v., 5. So I shut mine eyes 
because I would not be bewitched with her looks, Job, 
xxxi., 1. Then she railed on me, and I went my way. 

Chr. Did you meet with no other assault as you 
came ? 

Faith. When I came to the foot of the hill called 
Difficulty, I met with a very aged man, who asked me' 
what I was, and whither bound. I told him that I was 
a pilgrim going to the Celestial City. Then said the 
old man, Thou lookest like an honest fellow ; wilt thou 



DISCOURSE OF CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL. 95 

be content to dwell with me, for the wages that I shall 
give thee? Then I asked him his name, and where he 
dwelt. He said his name was Adam the first, and that 
he dwelt in the town of Deceit, Eph., iv., 22. I asked 
him then, what was his work, and what the wages that 
he would give. He told me that his work was many 
delights; and his wages, that I should be his heir at last. 
I further asked him, what house he kept, and what 
other servants he had. So he told me that his house 
was maintained with all the dainties of the world, and 
that his servants were those of his own begetting. Then 
I asked him how many children he had. He said that 
he had but three daughters, the Lust of the Flesh, the 
Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride of Life, 1 John, ii., 16; 
and that I should marry them, if I would. Then I 
asked, how long time he would have me live with him ; 
and he told me, as long as he lived himself. 

Chr. Well, and what conclusion came the old man 
and you to at last? 

Faith. Why, at first I found myself somewhat in- 
clinable to go with the man, for 1 thought he spake 
very fair ; but looking in his forehead, as I talked with 
him, I saw there written, "Put off the old man with 
his deeds." 

Chr. And how then? 

Faith. Then it came burning hot into my mind, 
whatever he said, and however he nattered, when he 
got me home to his house he would sell me for a slave. 
So I bid him forbear to talk, for I would not come 
near the door of his house. Then he reviled me, and 
told me he would send such a one after me that should 
make my way bitter to my soul. So I turned to go 
away from him ; but just as I turned myself to go thence I 
felt him take hold of my flesh, and give me such a deadly 



96 DISCOURSE OF CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL. 

twitch back, that I thought he had pulled part of me 
after himself : this made me cry, " O wretched man, 1 ' 
Rom., vii., 24. So went I on my way up the hill. 

Now when I had got about half way up, I looked 
behind me, and saw one coming after me, swift as the 
wind ; so he overtook me just about the place where 
the settle stands. 

Just there, said Christian, did I sit down to rest 
me ; but being overcome with sleep, I there lost this 
roll out of my bosom. 

Faith. But, good brother, hear me out. So soon 
as the man overtook me, he was but a word and a 
blow ; for down he knocked me, and laid me for dead. 
But when I was a little come to myself again, I asked 
him wherefore he served me so. He said, because of 
my secret inclining to Adam the first. And with that 
he struck me another deadly blow on the breast, and 
beat me down backward ; so I lay at his foot as dead 
as before. So when I came to myself again, I cried 
him mercy : but he said, I know not how to show mercy ; 
and with that he knocked me down again. He had 
doubtless made an end of me, but that one came by, 
and bid him forbear. 

Chr. Who was that that bid him forbear? 

Faith. I did not know him at first; but as he went 
by, I perceived the holes in his hands and his side : 
then I concluded that he was our Lord. So I went up 
the hill. 

Chr. That man that overtook you was Moses. He 
spareth none ; neither knoweth he how to show mercy 
to those that transgress his law. 

Faith. I know it very well ; it was not the first time 
that he has met with me. Twas he that came to me 
when I dwelt securely at home, and that told me 



DISCOURSE OF CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL. 97 

he would burn my house over my head if I stayed 
there. 

Chr. But did not you see the house that stood 
there, on the top of that hill on the side of which 
Moses met you? 

Faith. Yes, and the lions too, before I came at it. 
But for the lions, I think they were asleep, for it was 
about noon; and because I had so much of the day 
before me, I passed by the Porter, and came down the 
hill. 

Chr. He told me, indeed, that he saw you go by ; 
but I wish that you had called at the house, for they 
would have showed you so many rarities, that you 
would scarce have forgot them to the day of your 
death. But pray tell me, did you meet nobody in the 
Valley of Humility? 

Faith. Yes, I met with one Discontent, who would 
willingly have persuaded me to go back again with him : 
his reason was, for that the valley was altogether with- 
out honor. He told me, moreover, that to go there 
was the way to disoblige all my friends, as Pride, Arro- 
gancy, Self-Conceit, Worldly Glory, with others, who 
he knew, as he said, would be very much offended if I 
made such a fool of myself as to wade through this 
valley. 

Chr. Well, and how did you answer him? 

Faith. I told him, that although all these that he 
named might claim a kindred of me, and that rightly 
(for indeed they were my relations according to the 
flesh), yet since I became a pilgrim they have disowned 
me, and I also have rejected them ; and therefore they 
were to me now no more than if they had never been 
of my lineage. I told him, moreover, that as to this 
valley, he had quite misrepresented the thing ; for be- 



98 DISCOURSE OF CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL. 

fore honor is humility, and a haughty spirit before a 
fall. Therefore, said I, I had rather go through this 
valley to the honor that was so accounted by the 
wisest, than choose that which he esteemed most 
worth our affections. 

Chr. Met you with nothing else in that valley? 

Faith. Yes, I met with Shame ; but of all the men 
that I met with on my pilgrimage, he, I think, bears 
the wrong name. The other would be said nay, after 
a little argumentation, and somewhat else ; but this 
bold-faced Shame would never have done. 

Chr. Why, what did he say to you? 

Faith. Why? why he objected against religion 
itself. He said it was a pitiful, low, sneaking business 
for a man to mind religion. He said, that a tender 
conscience was an unmanly thing ; and that for a man 
to watch over his words and ways, so as to tie up him- 
self from that hectoring liberty that the brave spirits of 
the times accustom themselves unto would make him 
the ridicule of the times. He objected also, that but 
few of the mighty, rich, or wise were ever of my 
opinion ; nor any of them neither, before they were 
persuaded to be fools, and to be of a voluntary fond- 
ness to venture the loss of all, for nobody else knows 
what, i Cor., i., 26 ; iii., 18 ; Phil., iii., 7-9 ; John, vii., 
48. He, moreover, objected the base and low estate and 
condition of those that were chiefly the pilgrims of the 
times in which they lived ; also their ignorance and 
want of understanding in all natural science. Yea, he 
did hold me to it at that rate also about a great many 
more things than here I relate ; as, that it was a shame 
to sit whining and mourning under a sermon, and a 
shame to come sighing and groaning home ; that it was 
a shame to ask my neighbor forgiveness for my petty 



DISCOURSE OF CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL. 99 

faults, or to make restitution where 1 have taken from 
any. He said also, that religion made a man grow 
strange to the great, because of a few vices (which he 
called by finer names), and made him own and respect 
the base, because of the same religious fraternity : and 
is not this, said he, a shame? 

Chr. And what did you say to him? 

Faith. Say? I could not tell what to say at first. 
Yea, he put me so to it, that my blood came up in my 
face ; even this Shame fetched it up, and had almost 
beat me quite off. But at last I began to consider, that 
that which is highly esteemed among men, is had in 
abomination with God, Luke, xvi., 15. And I thought 
again, This Shame tells me what men are ; but he tells 
me nothing what God, or the word of God, is. And I 
thought, moreover, that at the day of doom we shall 
not be doomed to death or life, according to the hec- 
toring spirits of the world, but according to the wisdom 
and law of the Highest. Therefore, thought I, what 
God says is best, is best, though all the men in the 
world are against it. Seeing then, that God prefers 
his religion ; seeing God prefers a tender conscience ; 
seeing they that make themselves fools for the kingdom 
of heaven are wisest, and that the poor man that loveth 
Christ is richer than the greatest man in the world that 
hates him ; Shame, depart, thou art an enemy to my 
salvation. Shall I entertain thee against my sovereign 
Lord? how then shall I look him in the face at his 
coming? Mark, viii., 38. Should I now be ashamed of 
His ways and servants, how can I expect the blessing? 
But indeed this Shame was a bold villain ; I could 
scarcely shake him out of my company ; yea, he would 
be haunting of me, and continually whispering me in 
the ear with some one or other of the infirmities that 



100 DISCOURSE OF CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL. 

attend religion. But at last I told him 'twas but in 
vain to attempt further in this business ; for those 
things that he disdained, in those did I see most glory : 
and so at last I got past this importunate one. And 
when I had shaken him off, then I began to sing : 

The trials that those men do meet withal, 

That are obedient to the heavenly call, 

Are manifold, and suited to the flesh, 

And come, and come, and come again afresh ; 

That now, or some time else, we by them may 

Be taken, overcome, and cast away. 

O let the pilgrims, let the pilgrims then, 

Be vigilant, and quit themselves like men. 

Chr. I am glad, my brother, that thou didst with- 
stand this villain so bravely ; for of all, as thou sayest, 
I think he has the wrong name ; for he is so bold as to 
follow us in the streets, and to attempt to put us to 
shame before all men ; that is, to make us ashamed 
of that which is good. But if he was not himself 
audacious, he would never attempt to do as he does. 
But let us still resist him ; for notwithstanding all his 
bravadoes, he promoteth the fool, and none else. 
"The wise shall inherit glory," said Solomon; "but 
shame shall be the promotion of fools." Prow, iii., 35. 

Faith. I think we must cry to Him for help against 
Shame, that would have us to be valiant for truth upon 
earth. 

Chr. You say true ; but did you meet nobody else 
in that valley ? 

Faith. No, not I ; for I had sunshine all the rest of 
the way through that, and also through the Valley of 
the Shadow of Death. 

Chr. 'Twas well for you; I am sure it fared far 



DISCOURSE OF CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL. IOI 

otherwise with me. I had for a long season, as soon 
almost as I entered into that valley, a dreadful combat 
with that foul fiend Apollyon ; yea, I thought verily he 
would have killed me, especially when he got me down, 
and crushed me under him, as if he would have crushed 
me to pieces ; for as he threw me, my sword flew out 
of my hand ; nay, he told he was sure of me ; but I 
cried to God, and he heard me, and delivered me out 
of all my troubles. Then 1 entered into the Valley of 
the Shadow of Death, and had no light for almost half 
the way through it. I thought I should have been 
killed there over and over ; but at last day brake, and 
the sun rose, and 1 went through that which was behind 
with far more ease and quiet. 

Moreover I saw in my dream, that as they went on, 
Faithful, as he chanced to look on one side, saw a man 
whose name was Talkative, walking at a distance be- 
side them ; for in this place there was room enough for 
them all to walk. He was a tall man, and something 
more comely at a distance than at hand. To this man 
Faithful addressed himself in this manner. 

Faith. Friend, whither away? Are you going to 
the heavenly country? 

Talk. 1 am going to that same place. 

Faith. That is well ; then I hope we may have your 
good company ? 

Talk. With a very good will, will I be your com- 
panion. 

Faith. Come on, then, and let us go together, and 
let us spend our time in discoursing of things that are 
profitable. 

Talk. To talk of things that are good, to me is 
very acceptable, with you, or with any other ; and I am 
glad that I have met with those that incline to so good 



102 DISCOURSE OF TALKATIVE AND FAITHFUL. 

a work ; for, to speak the truth, there are but few who 
care thus to spend their time as they are in their travels, 
but choose much rather to be speaking of things to no 
profit ; and this hath been a trouble to me. 

Faith. This is, indeed, a thing to be lamented ; for 
what thing so worthy of the use of the tongue and 
mouth of men on earth, as are the things of the God 
of heaven? 

Talk. I like you wonderful well, for your saying is 
full of conviction; and I will add, What thing so 
pleasant, and what so profitable, as to talk of the 
things of God? What things so pleasant? that is, if a 
man hath any delight in things that are wonderful. 
For instance : if a man doth delight to talk of the 
history, or the mystery of things ; or if a man doth 
love to talk of miracles, wonders, or signs, where shall 
he find things recorded so delightful, and so sweetly 
penned as in the holy Scripture ? 

Faith. That is true ; but to be profited by such 
things in our talk, should be our chief design. 

Talk. That's it that I said; for to talk of such 
things is most profitable ; for by so doing, a man may 
get knowledge of many things ; as of the vanity of 
earthly things, and the benefit of things above. Thus 
in general ; but more particularly, by this a man may 
learn the necessity of the new birth, the insufficiency 
of our works, the need of Christ's righteousness, &c. 
Besides, by this a man may learn what it is to repent, 
to believe, to pray, to suffer, or the like : by this, also, 
a man may learn what are the great promises and con- 
solations of the gospel, to his own comfort. Further, 
by this a man may learn to refute false opinions, to vin- 
dicate the truth, and also to instruct the ignorant. 

Faith. All this is true ; and glad am I to hear 
these things from you. 



DISCOURSE OF TALKATIVE AND FAITHFUL. I03 

Talk. Alas ! the want of this is the cause that so 
few understand the need of faith, and the necessity of 
a work of grace in their soul, in order to eternal life; 
but ignorantly live in the works of the law, by which a 
man can by no means obtain the kingdom of heaven, 

Faith. But, by your leave, heavenly knowledge of 
these is the gift of God ; no man attaineth to them by 
human industry, or only by the talk of them. 

Talk. All this I know very well, for a man can 
receive nothing, except it be given him from heaven, 
all is of grace, not of works. I could give you a 
hundred Scriptures for the confirmation of this. 

Faith. Well, then, said Faithful, what is that one 
thing that we shall at this time found our discourse 
upon? 

Talk. What you will. I will talk of things heav- 
enly, or things earthly; things moral, or things 
evangelical ; things sacred, or things profane ; things 
past, or things to come, things foreign, or things at 
home ; things more essential, or things circumstantial ; 
provided that all be done to our profit. 

Now did Faithful begin to wonder ; and step- 
ping to Christian (for he walked all this while by 
himself), he said to him, but softly, What a brave com- 
panion have we got? Surely this man will make a 
very excellent pilgrim. 

At this Christian modestly smiled, and said, This 
man, with whom you are so taken, will beguile, with 
this tongue of his, twenty of them that know him 
not. 

Faith. Do you know him, then? 

Chr. Know him? Yes, better than he knows him- 
self. 

Faith. Pray what is he? 



104 CHRISTIAN DESCRIBES 

Chr. His name is Talkative : he dwelleth in our 
town. I wonder that you should be a stranger to him ; 
only I consider that our town is large. 

Faith. Whose son is he ? And whereabout doth he 
dwell? 

Chr. He is the son of one Say-well. He dwelt in 
Prating-Row ; and he is known to all that are acquainted 
with him by the name of Talkative, of Prating-Row ; 
and, notwithstanding his fine tongue, he is but a sorry 
fellow. 

Faith. Well, he seems to be a very pretty man. 

Chr. That is, to them that have not a thorough 
acquaintance with him, for he is best abroad ; near 
home he is ugly enough. Your saying that he is a 
pretty man, brings to my mind what I have observed in 
the work of a painter, whose pictures show best at a 
distance, but very near more unpleasing. 

Faith. But I am ready to think you do but jest, 
because you smiled. 

Chr. God forbid that I should jest (though I 
smiled) in this matter, or that I should accuse any 
falsely. I will give you a further discovery of him. 
This man is for any company and for any talk ; as he 
talketh now with you, so will he talk when he is on the 
ale-bench, and the more drink he hath in his crown, 
the more of these things he hath in his mouth. Reli- 
gion hath no place in his heart, or house, or con- 
versation ; all he hath lieth in his tongue, and his 
religion is to make a noise therewith. 

Faith. Say you so? Then am I in this man greatly 
deceived. 

Chr. Deceived ! you may be sure of it. Remember 
the proverb, " They say, and do not;" but the king- 
dom of God is not in word, but in power, Matt., xxiii., 



talkative's character. 105 

3 ; 1, Cor., iv., 20. He talketh of prayer, of repentance, 
of faith, and of the new birth ; but he knows but only 
to talk of them. I have been in his family, and have 
observed him both at home and abroad ; and I know what 
I say of him is the truth. His house is as empty of reli- 
gion as the white of an egg is of savor. There is there 
neither prayer, nor sign of repentance for sin ; yea, the 
brute, in his kind, serves God far better than he. He is 
the very stain, reproach, and shame of religion to all that 
know him, Rom., ii., 24, 25 ; it can hardly have a good 
word in all that end of the town where he dwells, 
through him. Thus say the common people that know 
him, " A saint abroad, and a devil at home.'" His poor 
family finds it so ; he is such a churl, such a railer at, 
and so unreasonable with, his servants, that they 
neither know how to do for or to speak to him. Men 
that have any dealings with him say, It is better to 
deal with a Turk than with him, for fairer dealings 
they shall have at their hands. This Talkative (if it 
be possible) will go beyond them, defraud, beguile, and 
overreach them. Besides, he brings up his sons to 
follow his steps ; and if he finds in any of them a fool- 
ish timorousness (for so he calls the first appearance 
of a tender conscience), he calls them fools and block- 
heads, and by no means will employ them in much, or 
speak to their commendation before others. For my 
part, I am of opinion that he has, by his wicked life, 
caused many to stumble and fall ; and will be, if God 
prevents not, the ruin of many more. 

Faith. Well, my brother, I am bound to believe 
you, not only because you say you know him, but also 
because, like a Christian, you make your reports of men. 
For I cannot think that you speak these things of ill- 
will, but because it is even so as you say. 



106 CHRISTIAN DESCRIBES 

Chr. Had I known him no more than you, I might, 
perhaps, have thought of him as at the first you did ; 
yea, had I received this report at their hands only, that 
are enemies to religion, I should have thought it had 
been a slander, a lot that oft falls from bad men's 
mouths upon good men's names and professions. But 
all these things, yea, and a great many more as bad, of 
my own knowledge, I can prove him guilty of. Besides, 
good men are ashamed of him ; they can neither call 
him brother nor friend ; the very naming of him among 
them makes them blush, if they know him. 

Faith. Well, I see that saying and doing are two 
things, and hereafter I shall better observe this dis- 
tinction. 

Chr. They are two things indeed, and are as diverse 
as are the soul and the body ; for as the body without 
the soul is but a dead carcase, so saying, if it be alone, 
is but a dead carcase also. The soul of religion is the 
practical part. "Pure religion and undefiled before 
God and the Father, is this, to visit the fatherless and 
widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted 
from the world," James, i., 27; see also verses 22- 
26. This, Talkative is not aware of; he thinks that 
hearing and saying will make a good Christian ; and 
thus he deceiveth his own soul. Hearing is but as the 
sowing of the seed ; talking is not sufficient to prove 
that fruit is indeed in the heart and life. And let us 
assure ourselves, that at the day of doom men shall be 
judged according to their fruits, Matt., xiii., 23. It will 
not be said then, Did you believe? but, Were you 
doers, or talkers only? and accordingly shall they be 
judged. The end of the world is compared to our 
harvest, Matt., xiii., 30, and you know men at harvest 
regard nothing but fruit. Not that anything can be 



talkative's character. 107 

accepted that is not of faith ; but I speak this to show 
you how insignificant the profession of Talkative will 
be at that day. 

Faith. This brings to my mind that of Moses, by 
which he describeth the beast that is clean, Lev., xi. 
Deut., xiv. He is such an one that parteth the hoof, 
and cheweth the cud ; not that parteth the hoof only, 
or that cheweth the cud only. The hare cheweth the 
cud, but yet is unclean, because he parteth not the 
hoof. And this truly resembleth Talkative : he chew- 
eth the cud, he seeketh the knowledge ; he cheweth 
upon the word : but he divideth not the hoof. He 
parteth not with the way of sinners ; but as the hare, 
retaineth the foot of a dog or bear, and therefore he is 
unclean. 

Chr. You have spoken, for aught I know, the true 
Gospel sense of these texts. And I will add another 
thing : Paul calleth some men, yea, and those great 
talkers too, sounding brass, and tinkling cymbals, 1 
Cor., xiii., 1, 3; that is, as he expounds them in an- 
other place, things without life giving sound, 1 Cor., 
xiv., 7. Things without life; that is, without the true 
faith and grace of the Gospel ; and, consequently, 
things that shall never be placed in the kingdom of 
heaven among those that are the children of life ; 
though their sound, by their talk, be as if it were the 
tongue or voice of an angel. 

Faith. Well, I was not so fond of his company at 
first, but I am as sick of it now. What shall we do to 
be rid of him? 

Chr. Take my advice, and do as I bid you, and you 
shall find that he will soon be sick of your company 
too, except God shall touch his heart, and turn it. 

Faith. What would you have me to do? 



108 DISCOURSE BETWEEN 

Chr. Why, go to him, and enter into some serious 
discourse about the power of religion, and ask him 
plainly (when he has approved of it, for that he will), 
whether this thing be set up in his heart, house, or 
conversation. 

Then Faithful stepped forward again, and said to 
Talkative, Come, what cheer? How is it now? 

Talk. Thank you, well ; I thought we should have 
had a great deal of talk by this time. 

Faith. Well, if you will, we will fall to it now ; 
and since you left it with me to state the question, let 
it be this : How doth the saving grace of God discover 
itself when it is in the heart of man ? 

Talk. I perceive then, that our talk must be about 
the power of things. Well, it is a very good question, 
and I shall be willing to answer you. And take my 
answer in brief, thus : First, when the grace of God is 
in the heart, it causeth there a great outcry against sin. 
Secondly — 

Faith. Nay, hold, let us consider of one at once. 
I think you should rather say, It shows itself by inclin- 
ing the soul to abhor its sin. 

Talk. Why, what difference is there between crying 
out against, and abhorring of sin? 

Faith. Oh! a great deal. A man may cry out 
against sin of policy ; but he cannot abhor it but by 
virtue of a godly antipathy against it. I have heard 
many cry out against sin in the pulpit, who yet can 
abide it well enough in the heart, house, and conversa- 
tion, Gen., xxxix., 15. Joseph's mistress cried out 
with a loud voice, as if she had been very chaste : but 
she would willingly, notwithstanding that, have com- 
mitted uncleanness with him. Some cry out against 
sin, even as the mother cries out against her child in 



FAITHFUL AND TALKATIVE. IO9 

her lap, when she calleth it slut and naughty girl, and 
then falls to hugging and kissing it. 

Talk. You lie at the catch, I perceive. 

Faith. No, not I ; I am only for setting things 
right. But what is the second thing whereby you 
would prove a discovery of a work of grace in the 
heart? 

Talk. Great knowledge of gospel mysteries? 

Faith. This sign should have been first ; but first 
or last, it is also false ; for knowledge, great knowledge, 
may be obtained in the mysteries of the gospel, and yet 
no work of grace in the soul. Yea, if a man have all 
knowledge, he may yet be nothing, and so, conse- 
quently, be no child of God, i Cor., xiii., 2. When 
Christ said, " Do you know all these things? 11 and the 
disciples had answered, yes, he addeth, " Blessed are 
ye if ye do them. 11 He doth not lay the blessing in 
the knowing of them, but in the doing of them. For 
there is a knowledge that is not attended with doing : 
" He that knoweth his master's will, and doth it not. 11 
A man may know like an angel, and yet be no Chris- 
tian ; therefore your sign of it is not true. Indeed, to 
know, is a thing that pleaseth talkers and boasters ; 
but to do, is that which pleaseth God. Not that the 
heart can be good without knowledge, for without that 
the heart is naught. There are, therefore, two sorts 
of knowledge, knowledge that resteth in the bare 
speculation of things, and knowledge that is accom- 
panied with the grace of faith and love, which puts a 
man upon doing even the will of God from the heart : 
the first of these will serve the talker ; but without the 
other the true Christian is not content. "Give me 
understanding, and I shall keep thy law ; yea, I shall 
observe it with my whole heart, 11 Ps., cxix., 34. 



110 DISCOURSE BETWEEN 

Talk. You lie at the catch again : this is not for 
edification. 

Faith. Well, if you please, propound another sign 
how this work of grace discovereth itself where it is. 

Talk. Not I, for I see we shall not agree. 

Faith. Well, if you will not, will you give me leave 
to do it? 

Talk. You may use your liberty. 

Faith. A work of grace in the soul discovereth it- 
self, either to him that hath it, or to standers by. 

To him that hath it, thus : It gives him conviction 
of sin, especially the defilement of his nature, and the 
sin of unbelief, for the sake of which he is sure to be 
damned, if he findeth not mercy at God's hand by faith 
in Jesus Christ. This sight and sense of things work- 
eth in him sorrow and shame for sin, Ps., xxxviii., 18 ; 
Jer., xxxi., 19; John, xvi., 8; Rom., vii., 24; Mark, 
xvi., 16; Gal., ii., 16; Rev., i., 6. He findeth, more- 
over, revealed in him the Saviour of the world, and the 
absolute necessity of closing with him for life ; at the 
which he findeth hungerings and thirstings after him ; 
to which hungerings, &c. the promise is made. Now, 
according to the strength or weakness of his faith in 
his Saviour, so is his joy and peace, so is his love to 
holiness, so are his desires to know him more, and also 
to serve him in this world. But though, I say, it dis- 
covereth itself thus unto him, yet it is but seldom that 
he is able to conclude that this is a work of grace ; be- 
cause his corruptions now, and his abused reason, 
make his mind to misjudge in this matter ; therefore in 
him that hath this work there is required a very sound 
judgment before he can with steadiness conclude that 
this is a work of grace, John, xvi., 9 ; Gal., ii., 15, 16; 
Acts, iv., 12: Matt., v., 6: Rev., xxi., 6. 



FAITHFUL AND TALKATIVE. Ill 

To others it is thus discovered : 

i. By an experimental confession of faith in Christ. 
2. By a life answerable to that confession; to wit, a 
life of holiness ; heart-holiness, family-holiness (if he 
hath a family), and by conversation-holiness in the 
world ; which in the general teacheth him inwardly to 
abhor his sin, and himself for that, in secret ; to sup- 
press it in his family, and to promote holiness in the 
world ; not by talk only, as a hypocrite or talkative 
person may do, but by a practical subjection in faith 
and love to the power of the word, Job, xlii., 5, 6; 
Ps., 1., 23; Ezek., xx., 43; Matt., v., 8; John, xiv., 
15; Rom., x., 10; Ezek., xxxvi., 25; Phil., i., xxvii., 
3 — 17. And now, sir, as to this brief description of 
the work of grace, and also the discovery of it, if 
you have aught to object, object ; if not, then give me 
leave to propound to you a second question. 

Talk. Nay, my part is not now to object, but to 
hear ; let me, therefore, have your second question. 

Faith. It is this : Do you experience this first part 
of this description of it? And doth your life and con- 
versation testify the same? or standeth your religion 
in word or tongue, and not in deed and truth? Pray, if 
you incline to answer me in this, say no more than you 
know the God above will say Amen to, and also noth- 
ing but what your conscience can justify you in ; for 
not he that commendeth himself is approved, but 
whom the Lord commendeth. Besides, to say I am 
thus and thus, when ray conversation and all my neigh- 
bors tell me I lie, is great wickedness. 

Then Talkative at first began to blush ; but, recover- 
ing himself, thus he replied : You come now to experi- 
ence, to conscience, and God ; and to appeal to him 
for justification of what is spoken. This kind of dis- 



112 DISCOURSE BETWEEN FAITHFUL AND TALKATIVE. 

course I did not expect ; nor am I disposed to give an 
answer to such questions, because I count not myself 
bound thereto, unless you take upon you to be a cate- 
chiser ; and though you should so do, yet I may refuse 
to make you my judge. But I pray will you tell me 
why you ask me such questions? 

Faith. Because I saw you forward to talk, and 
because I knew not that you had aught else but notion. 
Besides, to tell you the truth, I have heard of you that 
you are a man whose religion lies in talk, and that 
your conversation gives this your mouth profession 
the lie. They say you are a spot among Christians, 
and that religion fareth the worse for your ungodly 
conversation ; that some already have stumbled at your 
wicked ways, and that more are in danger of being 
destroyed thereby ; your religion, and an ale-house, 
and covetousness, and uncleanness, and swearing, 
and lying, and vain company-keeping, etc., will stand 
together. The proverb is true of you which is said 
of a harlot, to wit, " That she is a shame to all women." 
So you are a shame to all professors. 

Talk. Since you are so ready to take up reports, 
and to judge so rashly as you do, I cannot but con- 
clude you are some peevish or melancholy man, not 
fit to be discoursed with ; and so, adieu. 

Then came up Christian, and said to his brother, 
I told you how it would happen ; your words and his 
lusts could not agree. He had rather leave your com- 
pany than reform his life. But he is gone, as I said, 
let him go ; the loss is no man's but his own ; he has 
saved us the trouble of going from him ; for he contin- 
uing (as I suppose he will do ) as he is, he would have 
been but a blot in our company. Besides, the apostle 
says, " From such withdraw thyself. 1 ' 



EVANGELIST OVERTAKES THE PILGRIMS. II3 

Faith. But I am glad we had this little discourse 
with him ; it may happen that he will think of it again: 
however, I have dealt plainly with him, and so am 
clear of his blood, if he perisheth. 

Chr. You did well to talk so plainly to him as you 
did. There is but little of this faithful dealing with 
men nowadays, and that makes religion to stink in 
the nostrils of so many as it doth ; for they are these 
talkative fools, whose religion is only in word, and who 
are debauched and vain in their conversation, that 
(being so much admitted into the fellowship of the 
godly) do puzzle the world, blemish Christianity, and 
grieve the sincere. I wish that all men would deal 
with such as you have done ; then should they either 
be made more conformable to religion, or the company 
of saints would be too hot for them. 

How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes ! 
How bravely doth he speak ! How he presumes 
To drive down all before him ! But so soon 
As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon 
That's past the full, into the wane he goes; 
And so will all but he that heart-work knows. 

Thus they went on, talking of what they had seen 
by the way, and so made that way easy, which would 
otherwise no doubt have been tedious to them, for 
now they went through a wilderness. 

Now when they were got almost quite out of this 
wilderness, Faithful chanced to cast his eye back, and 
espied one coming after them, and he knew him. Oh! 
said Faithful to his brother, who comes yonder? Then 
Christian looked, and said, it is my good friend Evan- 
gelist. Ay, and my good friend too, said Faithful, for 
'twas he that set me on the way to the gate. Now 



114 evangelist's exhortations. 

was Evangelist come up unto them, and thus saluted 
them. 

Evan. Peace be to you, dearly beloved, and peace 
be to your helpers. 

Chr. Welcome, welcome, my good Evangelist, the 
sight of thy countenance brings to my remembrance 
thy ancient kindness and unwearied labors for my 
eternal good. 

And a thousand times welcome, said good Faithful, 
thy company, O sweet Evangelist ; how desirable is it 
to us poor pilgrims ! 

Then said Evangelist, How hath it fared with you, 
my friends, since the time of our last parting? What 
have you met with, and how have you behaved your- 
selves? 

Then Christian and Faithful told him of all things 
that had happened to them in the way ; and how, and 
with what difficulty, they had arrived to that place. 

Right glad am I, said Evangelist, not that you have 
met with trials, but that you have been victors, and 
for that you have, notwithstanding many weaknesses, 
continued in the way to this very day. 

I say, right glad am I of this thing, and that for 
mine own sake and yours ; I have sowed, and you 
have reaped, and the day is coming, when " both he 
that soweth, and they that reap, shall rejoice together," 
John, iv., 36; that is, if you hold out: "for in due 
season ye shall reap, if ye faint not," Gal., vi., 9. The 
crown is before you, and it is an incorruptible one ; 
" so run that ye may obtain it," 1, Cor., ix., 24-27. 
Some there be that set out for this crown, and after 
they have gone far for it, another comes in and takes 
it from them; "hold fast, therefore, that you have; 
let no man take your crown," Rev., iii., 11. You are 



evangelist's exhortations. 115 

not yet out of the gun-shot of the devil ; " you have not 
yet resisted unto blood, striving against sin. 11 Let 
the kingdom be always before you, and believe stead- 
fastly concerning things that are invisible. Let noth- 
ing that is on this side the other world get within 
you. And, above all, look well to your own hearts 
and to the lusts thereof; for they are " deceitful above 
all things, and desperately wicked. 11 Set your faces 
like a flint ; you have all power in heaven and earth 
on your side. 

Then Christian thanked him for his exhortation ; 
but told him withal, that they would have him speak 
further to them for their help the rest of the way ; 
and the rather, for that they well knew that he was 
a prophet, and could tell them of things that might 
happen unto them, and also how they might resist 
and overcome them. To which request Faithful also 
consented. So Evangelist began as followeth : 

My sons, you have heard in the word of the truth 
of the gospel, that you. must "through many tribu- 
lations enter into the kingdom of heaven ; " and again, 
that " in every city, bonds and afflictions abide you; 11 
and therefore you cannot expect that you should go 
long on your pilgrimage without them, in some sort 
or other. You have found something of the truth of 
these testimonies upon you already, and more will 
immediately follow ; for now, as you see, you are 
almost out of this wilderness, and therefore you will 
soon come into a town that you will by and by see 
before you ; and in that town you will be hardly beset 
with enemies, who will strain hard but they will kill 
you ; and be you sure that one or both of you must 
seal the testimony which you hold, with blood ; but 
" be you faithful unto death, and the King will give 



Il6 VANITY FAIR. 

you a crown of life." He that shall die there, although 
his death will be unnatural, and his pains, perhaps, 
great, he will yet have the better of his fellow ; not 
only because he will be arrived at the Celestial City 
soonest, but because he will escape many miseries that 
the other will meet with in the rest of his journey. But 
when you are come to the town, and shall find fulfilled 
what I have here related, then remember your friend, 
and quit yourselves like men, and " commit the keep- 
ing of your souls to God in well-doing, as unto a faith- 
ful Creator.'" 

Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got 
out of the wilderness, they presently saw a town before 
them, and the name of that town is Vanity ; and at the 
town there is a fair kept, called Vanity Fair. It is kept 
all the year long. It beareth the name of Vanity Fair, 
because the town where it is kept is lighter than vanity, 
Ps., lxii., 9; and also, because all that is there sold, 
or that cometh thither, is vanity ; as is the saying of 
the wise, "All that cometh is vanity, 1 ' Eccl., xi., 8; 
see also i., 2-14; ii., 11-17. Isa., xl., 17. 

This fair is no new-erected business, but a thing of 
ancient standing. I will show you the original of it. 

Almost five thousand years ago, there were pilgrims 
walking to the Celestial City, as these two honest 
persons are ; and Beelzebub, Apollyon, and Legion, 
with their companions, perceiving by the path that the 
pilgrims made, that their way to the city lay through 
this town of Vanity, they contrived here to set up a 
fair ; a fair wherein should be sold all sorts of vanity, 
and that it should last all the year long. Therefore at 
this fair are all such merchandise sold as houses, lands, 
trades, places, honors, preferments, titles, countries, 
kingdoms, lusts, pleasures ; and delights of all sorts, 



VANITY FAIR. 117 

as harlots, wives, husbands, children, masters, servants, 
lives, blood, bodies, souls, silver, gold, pearls, precious 
stones, and what not. And moreover, at this fair there 
are at all times to be seen jugglings, cheats, games, 
plays, fools, apes, knaves, and rogues, and that of 
every kind. 

Here are to be seen, too, and that for nothing, thefts, 
murders, adulteries, false swearers, and that of a 
blood-red color. 

And as, in other fairs of less moment, there are the 
several rows and streets under their proper names, 
where such and such wares are vended : so here like- 
wise you have the proper places, rows, streets (namely, 
countries and kingdoms), where the wares of this fair 
are soonest to be found. Here is the Britain Row, 
the French Row, the Italian Row, the Spanish Row, the 
German Row, where several sorts of vanities are to be 
sold. But as in other fairs, some one commodity is as 
the chief of all the fairs, so the ware of Rome and her 
merchandise is greatly promoted in this fair ; only our 
English nation, with some others, have taken a dislike 
thereat. 

Now, as I said, the way to the Celestial City lies just 
through this town where this lusty fair is kept ; and he 
that would go to the city, and yet not go through this 
town, "must needs go out of the world,' 1 1 Cor., v., 
10. The Prince of Princes Himself, when here, went 
through this town to his own country, and that upon a 
fair-day too; yea, and, as I think, it was Beelzebub, 
the chief lord of this fair, that invited him to buy of 
his vanities, yea, would have made him lord of the fair, 
would he but have done him reverence as he went 
through the town. Yea, because he was such a person 
of honor, Beelzebub had him from street to street, and 



Il8 HUBBUB AT THE PILGRIMS IN THE FAIR. 

showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a little 
time, that he might, if possible, allure that Blessed One 
to cheapen and buy some of his vanities ; but he had 
no mind to the merchandise, and, therefore, left the 
town without laying out so much as one farthing upon 
these vanities, Matt., iv., 1-8 ; Luke, iv., 5-8. This 
fair, therefore, is an ancient thing of long standing, 
and a very great fair. 

Now these pilgrims, as I said, must needs go through 
this fair. Well, so they did; but, behold, even as 
they entered into the fair, all the people in the fair 
were moved, and the town itself, as it were, in a hub- 
bub about them, and that for severa reasons : For, 

First, The pilgrims were clothed with such kind of 
raiment as was diverse from the raiment of any that 
traded in that fair. The people, therefore, of the fair, 
made a great gazing upon them ; some said they were 
fools ; some they were bedlams ; and some they were 
outlandish men, Job, xii., 4; 1 Cor., iv., 9. 

Secondly, And as they wondered at their apparel, 
so they did likewise at their speech ; for few could 
understand what they said. They naturally spoke the 
language of Canaan ; but they that kept the fair were 
the men of this world. So that from one end of the 
fair to the other, they seemed barbarians each to the 
other, 1 Cor., ii., 7, 8. 

Thirdly, But that which did not a little amuse the 
merchandisers was, that these pilgrims set very light 
by all their wares. They cared not so much as to look 
upon them ; and if they called upon them to buy, they 
would put their fingers in their ears, and cry, "Turn 
away mine eyes from beholding vanity," Ps., cxix., 
37 ; and look upward, signifying that their trade and 
traffic was in heaven, Phil., iii., 20, 21. 



THE PILGRIMS PUT INTO THE CAGE. 119 

One chanced mockingly, beholding the carriage of 
the men, to say unto them, " What will ye buy?" But 
they, looking gravely upon him, said, "We buy the 
truth, 11 Prov., xxiii., 23. At that, there was an occasion 
taken to despise the men the more; some mocking, 
some taunting, some speaking reproachfully, and some 
calling upon others to smite them. At last things 
came to a hubbub and great stir in the fair, insomuch 
that all order was confounded. Now was word pres- 
ently brought to the great one of the fair, who quickly 
came down, and deputed some of his most trusty 
friends to take those men into examination about whom 
the fair was almost overturned. So the men were 
brought to examination ; and they that sat upon them 
asked whence they came, whither they went, and what 
they did there in such an unusual garb. The men told 
them they were pilgrims and strangers in the world, 
and that they were going to their own country, which 
was the heavenly Jerusalem, Heb., xi., 13-16; and 
that they had given no occasion to the men of the 
town, nor yet to the merchandisers, thus to abuse 
them', and to let them in their journey, except it was 
for that, when one asked them what they would buy, 
they said they would buy the truth. But they that 
were appointed to examine them did not believe them 
to be any other than bedlams and mad, or else such 
as came to put all things into a confusion in the fair. 
Therefore they took them and beat them, and be- 
smeared them with dirt, and then put them into the 
cao-e that they might be made a spectacle to all the 
men of the fair. There, therefore, they lay for some 
time, and were made the objects of any man's sport, 
or malice, or revenge ; the great one of the fair laugh- 
ing still at all that befell them. But the men being 



120 THE PILGRIMS MUCH PERSECUTED. 

patient, and "not rendering railing for railing, but 
contrariwise blessing/ 1 and giving good words for bad, 
and kindness for injuries done, and some men in the 
fair, that were more observing and less prejudiced 
than the rest, began to check and blame the baser sort 
for their continual abuses done by them to the men. 
They, therefore, in an angry manner let fly at them 
again, counting them as bad as the men in the cage, 
and telling them that they seemed confederates, and 
should be made partakers of their misfortunes. The 
others replied, that, for aught they could see, the men 
were quiet and sober, and intended nobody any harm ; 
and that there were many that traded in their fair that 
were more worthy to be put into the cage, yea, and 
pillory too, than were the men that they had abused. 
Thus, after divers words had passed on both sides 
(the men behaving themselves all the while very wisely 
and soberly before them), they fell to some blows 
among themselves, and did harm one to another. 
Then were these two poor men brought before their 
examiners again, and there charged as being guilty of 
the late hubbub that had been in the fair. So they 
beat them pitifully, and hanged irons upon them, and 
led them in chains up and down the fair, for an ex- 
ample and terror to others, lest any should speak in 
their behalf, or join themselves unto them. But Chris- 
tian and Faithful behaved themselves yet more wisely, 
and received the ignominy and shame that was cast 
upon them with so much meekness and patience, that 
it won to their side (though but few in comparison of 
the rest) several of the men in the fair. This put the 
other party yet into a greater rage, insomuch that they 
concluded the death of these two men. Wherefore 
they threatened, that neither cage nor irons should 



THE PILGRIMS BROUGHT TO TRIAL. 121 

serve their turn, but that they should die for the abuse 
they had done, and for deluding the men of the fair. 

Then were they remanded to the cage again, until 
further order should be taken with them. So they put 
them in, and made them fast in the stocks. 

Here, therefore, they called again to mind what they 
had heard from their faithful friend Evangelist, and 
were the more confirmed in their way and sufferings, 
by what he told them would happen to them. They 
also now comforted each other, that whose lot it was 
to suffer, even he should have the best of it : therefore 
each man secretly wished that he might have that pre- 
ferment. But committing themselves to the all-wise 
disposal of Him that ruleth all things, with much con- 
tent they abode in the condition in which they were, 
until they should be otherwise disposed of. 

Then a convenient time being appointed, they 
brought them forth to their trial, in order to their con- 
demnation. When the time was come, they were 
brought before their enemies, and arraigned. The 
judge's name was Lord Hate-good ; their indictment 
was one and the same in substance, though somewhat 
varying in form ; the contents whereof was this : 
"That they were enemies to, and disturbers of, the 
trade ; that they had made commotions and divisions 
in the town, and had won a party to their own most 
dangerous opinions, in contempt of the law of their 
prince.'" 

Then Faithful began to answer, that he had only set 
himself against that which had set itself against Him 
that is higher than the highest. And, said he, as for 
disturbance, I make none, being myself a man of peace : 
the parties that were won to us, were won by beholding 
our truth and innocence, and they are only turned 



122 FAITHFUL'S TRIAL — THE WITNESSES. 

from the worse to the better. And as to the king you 
talk of, since he is Beelzebub, the enemy of our Lord, I 
defy him and all his angels. 

Then proclamation was made, that they that had aught 
to say for their lord, the king, against the prisoner at the 
bar should forthwith appear, and give in their evidence. 
So there came in three witnesses, to wit, Envy, Super- 
stition, and Pickthank. They were then asked, if they 
knew the prisoner at the bar ; and what they had to 
say for their lord, the king, against him. 

Then stood forth Envy, and said to this effect : My 
lord, I have known this man along time, and will attest 
upon oath before this honorable bench, that he is — 

Judge. Hold — give him his oath. 

So they sware him. Then he said, My lord, this 
man, notwithstanding his plausible name, is one of the 
vilest men in our country ; he neither regardeth prince 
nor people, law nor custom, but doeth all that he can 
to possess all men with certain of his disloyal notions, 
which he in general calls principles of faith and holi- 
ness. And in particular, I heard him once myself 
affirm, that Christianity and the customs of our town of 
Vanity were diametrically opposite, and could not be 
reconciled. By which saying, my lord, he doth at once 
not only condemn all our laudable doings, but us in the 
doing of them. 

Then did the judge say to him, Hast thou any more 
to say ? 

Envy. My lord, I could say much more, only I 
would not be tedious to the court. Yet if need be, 
when the other gentlemen have given in their evidence, 
rather than anything shall be wanting that will despatch 
him, I will enlarge my testimony against him. So he 
was bid to stand by. 



THE WITNESSES AGAINST FAITHFUL. 1 23 

Then they called Superstition, and bid him look upon 
the prisoner at the bar. They also asked, what he 
could say for their lord, the king, against him. Then 
they sware him ; so he began : 

Super. My lord, I have no great acquaintance with 
this man, nor do I desire to have further knowledge of 
him. However, this I know, that he is a very pestilent 
fellow, from some discourse that I had with him, the 
other day, in this town, for then, talking with him, I 
heard him say, that our religion was naught, and such 
by which a man could by no means please God. Which 
saying of his, my lord, your lordship very well knows 
what necessarily thence will follow, to wit, that we still 
do worship in vain, are yet in our sins, and finally shall 
be damned : and this is that which I have to say. 

Then was Pickthank sworn, and bid say what he 
knew in the behalf of their lord, the king, against the 
prisoner at the bar. 

Pick. My lord, and you gentlemen all, this fellow I 
have known of a long time, and have heard him speak 
things that ought not to be spoken; for he hath railed 
on our noble prince Beelzebub, and hath spoken con- 
temptibly of his honorable friends, whose names are, 
the Lord Old Man, the Lord Carnal Delight, the Lord 
Luxurious, the Lord Desire of Vain Glory, my old Lord 
Lechery, Sir Having Greedy, with all the rest of our 
nobility ; and he hath said, moreover, that if all men 
were of his mind, if possible, there is not one of these 
noblemen should have any longer a being in this town. 
Besides, he hath not been afraid to rail on you, my 
lord, who are now appointed to be his judge, calling 
you an ungodly villain, with many other such like vili- 
fying terms, with which he hath bespattered most of 
the gentry of our town. 



124 faithful's reply. 

When this Pickthank had told his tale, the judge 
directed his speech to the prisoner at the bar, saying, 
Thou runagate, heretic, and traitor, hast thou heard 
what these honest gentlemen have witnessed against 
thee? 

Faith. May I speak a few words in my own defence? 

Judge. Sirrah, sirrah, thou deservest to live no 
longer, but to be slain immediately upon the place ; 
yet that all men may see our gentleness toward thee, 
let us hear what thou hast to say. 

Faith, i. I say, then, in answer to what Mr. Envy 
hath spoken, I never said aught but this, that what 
rule, or laws, or custom, or people, were flat against the 
word of God, are diametrically opposite to Christianity. 
If I have said amiss in this, convince me of my error, 
and I am ready here before you to make my recanta- 
tion. 

2. As to the second, to wit, Mr. Superstition, and 
his charge against me, I said only this, that in the wor- 
ship of God there is required a divine faith ; but there 
can be no divine faith without a divine revelation of 
the will of God. Therefore, whatever is thrust into the 
worship of God, that is not agreeable to divine revela- 
tion, cannot be done but by a human faith, which faith 
will not be profitable to eternal life. 

3. As to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say (avoid- 
ing terms, as that I am said to rail, and the like), that 
the prince of this town, with all the rabblement, his 
attendants, by this gentleman named, are more fit for a 
being in hell than in this town and country. And so 
the Lord have mercy upon me. 

Then the judge called to the jury (who all this while 
stood by to hear and observe), Gentlemen of the jury, 
you see this man about whom so great an uproar hath 



THE JUDGE'S CHARGE TO THE JURY. 1 25 

been made in this town ; you have also heard what 
these worthy gentlemen have witnessed against him ; 
also you have heard his reply and confession ; it lieth 
now in your breast to hang him, or save his life; but 
yet I think meet to instruct you in our law. 

There was an act made in the days of Pharaoh the 
great, servant to our prince, that, lest those of a con- 
trary religion should multiply, and grow too strong for 
him, their males should be thrown into the river, Exod., 
i., 22. There was also an act made in the days of 
Nebuchadnezzar the great, another of his servants, 
that whoever would not fall down and worship his 
golden image, should be thrown into a fiery furnace, 
Dan., iii., 6. There was also an act made in the days 
of Darius, that whoso for some time called upon any 
God but him, should be cast into the lion's den, Dan., 
vi., 7. Now the substance of these laws this rebel has 
broken, not only in thought (which is not to be borne), 
but also in word and deed ; which must, therefore, 
needs be intolerable. 

For that of Pharaoh, his law was made upon a sup- 
position, to prevent mischief, no crime being yet 
apparent ; but here is a crime apparent. For the 
second and third, you see he disputeth against our 
religion ; and for the treason that he hath confessed, 
he deserveth to die the death. 

Then went the jury out, whose names were Mr. 
Blind-man, Mr. No-good, Mr. Malice, Mr. Love-lust, 
Mr. Live-loose, Mr. Heady, Mr. High-mind, Mr. 
Enmity, Mr. Liar, Mr. Cruelty, Mr. Hate-light, and 
Mr. Implacable; who every one gave in his private 
verdict against him among themselves, and afterwards 
unanimously concluded to bring him in guilty before 
the judge. And first among themselves, Mr. Blind-man, 



126 THE JURY FIND FAITHFUL GUILTY. 

the foreman, said, I see clearly that this man is a heretic. 
Then said Air. No-good, Away with such a fellow from 
the earth. Ay, said Mr. Malice, for I hate the very 
looks of him. Then said Mr. Love-lust, I could never 
endure him. Nor I, said Mr. Live-loose, for he would 
always be condemning my way. Hang him, hang him, 
said Mr. Heady. A sorry scrub, said Mr. High-mind. 
My heart riseth against him, said Mr. Enmity. He is 
a rogue, said Mr. Liar. Hanging is too good for him, 
said Mr. Cruelty. Let us despatch him out of the way, 
said Mr. Hate-light. Then said Mr. Implacable, Might 
I have all the world given me, I could not be reconciled 
to him ; therefore let us forthwith bring him in guilty 
of death. 

And so they did ; therefore he was presently con- 
demned to be had from the place where he was, to 
the place from whence he came, and there to be put 
to the most cruel death that could be invented. 

They, therefore, brought him out, to do with him 
according to their law ; and first they scourged him, 
then they buffetted him, then they lanced his flesh with 
knives ; after that they stoned him with stones ; then 
pricked him with their swords; and last of all, they 
burned him to ashes at the stake. Thus came Faithful 
to his end. 

Now I saw, that there stood behind the multitude a 
chariot and a couple of horses waiting for Faithful, who 
(so soon as his adversaries had despatched him) was 
taken up into it, and straightway was carried up through 
the clouds with sound of trumpet, the nearest way to 
the celestial gate. But as for Christian, he had some 
respite, and was remanded back to prison ; so he there 
remained for a space. But He who overrules all things, 
having the power of their rage in his own hand, so 



HOPEFUL JOINS CHRISTIAN. I 27 

wrought it about, that Christian for that time escaped 
them, and went his way. 

And as he went he sang, saying, 

Well, Faithful, thou hast faithfully profest 
Unto thy Lord, with whom thou shalt be blest, 
When faithless ones, with all, their vain delights, 
Are crying out under their hellish plights : 
Sing. Faithful, sing, and let thy name survive, 
For though they killed thee, thou art yet alive. 

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian went not 
forth alone ; for there was one whose name was Hope- 
ful (being so made by the beholding of Christian and 
Faithful in their words and behavior, in their sufferings 
at the fair), who joined himself unto him, and entering 
into a brotherly covenant, told him that he would be his 
companion. Thus one died to bear testimony to the 
truth, and another rises out of his ashes to be a com- 
panion with Christian in his pilgrimage. This Hopeful 
also told Christian, that there were many more of the men 
in the fair that would take their time and follow after. 

So I saw, that quickly after they were got out of the 
fair they overtook one that was going before them, 
whose name was By-ends ; so they said to him. What 
countryman, sir; and how far go you this way? He 
told them that he came from the town of Fair-speech, 
and he was going to the Celestial City ; but told them 
not his name. 

From Fair-speech? said Christian; is there any good 
that lives there? Prov., xxvi., 25. 

Yes, said By-ends, I hope. 

Chr. Pray sir, what may I call you? 

By. I am a stranger to you, and you to me; if you 
be going this way, I shall be glad of your company ; if 
not, I must be content. 



128 DISCOl*RSE WITH BY-ENDS. 

Chr. This town of Fair-speech. I have heard of 
it ; and, as I remember, they say it's a wealthy place. 

By. Yes, I will assure you that it is ; and I have very 
many rich kindred there. 

Chr. Pray who are your kindred there, if a man may 
be so bold? 

By. Almost the whole town ; but in particular my 
Lord Turn-about, my Lord Time-server, my Lord Fair- 
speech, from whose ancestors that town first took its 
name ; also Mr. Smooth-man, Mr. Facing-bothways, 
Mr. Any-thing; and the parson of our parish, Mr. 
Two-tongues, was my mother's own brother, by 
father's side ; and, to tell you the truth, I am become 
a gentleman of good quality ; yet my great grandfather 
was but a waterman, looking one way and rowing 
another, and I got most of my estate by the same 
occupation. 

Chr. Are you a married man? 

By. Yes, and my wife is a very virtuous woman, the 
daughter of a virtuous woman ; she was my Lady 
Feigning's daughter, therefore she came of a very 
honorable family, and is arrived to such a pitch of 
breeding, that she knows how to carry it to all, even to 
prince and peasant. ' Tis true, we somewhat differ in 
religion from those of the stricter sort, yet but in two 
small points ; First, we never strive against wind and 
tide. Secondly, we are always most zealous when 
Religion goes in his silver slippers ; we love much to 
walk with him in the street if the sun shines and the 
people applaud him. 

Then Christian stepped a little aside to his fellow 
Hopeful, saying, It runs in my mind that this is one By- 
ends, of Fair-speech ; and if it be he, we have as very 
a knave in our company as dwelleth in all these parts. 



DISCOURSE WITH BY-ENDS. 1 29 

Then said Hopeful, Ask him ; methinks he should not 
be ashamed of his name. So Christian came up with 
him again, and said, Sir you talk as if you knew some- 
thing more than all the world cloth ; and, if I take not 
my mark amiss, I deem I have half a guess of you. Is 
not your name Mr. By-ends, of Fair-speech? 

By. This is not my name ; but, indeed, it is a nick- 
name that is given me by some that cannot abide me, 
and I must be content to bear it as a reproach, as other 
good men have borne theirs before me. 

Chr. But did you never give an occasion to men to 
call upon you by this name ? 

By. Never, never! The worst that ever I did to 
give them occasion to give me this name was, that I 
had always the luck to jump in my judgment with the 
present way of the times, whatever it was, and my 
chance was to get thereby ; but if things are thus cast 
upon me, let me count them a blessing; but let not 
the malicious load me, therefore, with reproach. 

Chr. I thought, indeed, that you were the man that 
I heard of; and to tell you what I think, I fear this 
name belongs to you more properly than you are will- 
ing we should think it doth. 

By. Well, if you will thus imagine, I cannot help 
it : you shall find me a fair company-keeper, if you will 
still admit me your associate. 

Chr. If you will go with us, you must go against 
wind and tide; the which, I perceive, is against your 
opinion : you must also own Religion in his rags, as 
well as when in his silver slippers; and stand by him, 
too, when bound in irons, as well as when he walketh 
the streets with applause. 

By. You must not impose, nor lord it over my 
faith ; leave me to my liberty, and let me go with you. 



I30 BY-ENDS AND THE PILGRIMS PART. 

Chr. Not a step farther, unless you will do, in what 
I propound, as we. 

Then said By-ends, I shall never desert my old 
principles, since they are harmless and profitable. If 
I may not go with you, I must do as I did before you 
overtook me, even go by myself, until some overtake 
me that will be glad of my company. 

Now I saw in my dream, that Christian and Hopeful 
forsook him, and kept their distance before him, but 
one of them, looking back, saw three men following 
Mr. By-ends ; and, behold, as they came up with him, 
he made them a very low congee ; and they also gave 
him a compliment. The men's names were, Mr. 
Hold-the-world, Mr. Money-love, and Mr. Save-all, 
men that Mr. By-ends had formerly been acquainted 
with, for in their minority they were schoolfellows, and 
taught by one Mr. Gripe-man, a schoolmaster in 
Love-gain, which is a market-town in the county of 
Coveting, in the North. This schoolmaster taught 
them the art of getting, either by violence, cozenage, 
flattering, lying, or by putting on a guise of religion ; 
and these four gentlemen had attained much of the art 
of their master, so that they could each of them have 
kept such a school themselves. 

Well, when they had, as I said, thus saluted each 
other, Mr. Money-love said to Mr. By-ends. Who are 
they upon the road before us? for Christian and Hope- 
ful were yet within view. 

By. They are a couple of far country-men, that, 
after their mode, are going on pilgrimage. 

Money. Alas ! why did not they stay, that we might 
have had their good company? for they, and we, and 
you, sir, I hope, are all going on pilgrimage. 

By. We are so indeed, but the men before us are 



DISCOURSE OF BY-ENDS AND HIS COMPANIONS. 131 

so rigid, and love so much their own notions, and do 
also so lightly esteem the opinions of others, that let 
a man be ever so godly, yet if he jumps not with them 
in all things, they thrust him quite out of their com- 
pany. 

Save. That is bad ; but we read of some that are 
righteous overmuch, and such men's rigidness prevails 
with them to judge and condemn all but themselves. 
But 1 pray, what, and how many, were the things 
wherein you differed ? 

By. Why they, after their headstrong manner, con- 
clude that it is their duty to rush on their journey all 
weathers ; and I am for waiting for wind and tide. 
They are for hazarding all for God at a clap ; and I am 
for taking all advantages to secure my life and estate. 
They are for holding their notions, though all other 
men be against them ; but I am for religion in what, 
and so far as, the times and my safety will bear it. 
They are for Religion when in rags and contempt ; but 
I am for him when he walks in his silver slippers, in 
the sunshine, and with applause. 

Hold-the-World. Ay, and hold you there still, 
good Mr. By-ends ; for, for my part, I can count him 
but a fool, that having the liberty to keep what he has, 
shall be so unwise as to lose it. Let us be wise as 
serpents. It is best to make hay while the sun shines. 
You see how the bee lieth still all winter, and bestirs 
her only when she can have profit with pleasure. God 
sends sometimes rain, and sometimes sunshine ; if they 
be such fools to go through the first, yet let us be con- 
tent to take fair weather along with us. For my part, 
1 like that religion best that will stand with the security 
of God's good blessings unto us ; for who can imagine, 
that is ruled by his reason, since God has bestowed 



I32 DISCOURSE OF BY-ENDS AND HIS COMPANION^. 

upon us the good things of this life, but that he would 
have us keep them for his sake ? Abraham and Solomon 
grew rich in religion ; and Job says that a good man 
shall lay up gold as dust ; but he must not be such as 
the men before us if they be as you have described 
them. 

Save. I think that we are all agreed in this matter ; 
and therefore there needs no more words about it. 

Money. No, there needs no more words about this 
matter indeed ; for he that believes neither Scripture 
nor reason (and you see we have both on our side),* 
neither knows his own liberty nor seeks his own safety. 

By. My brethren, we are, as you see, going all on 
pilgrimage ; and for our better diversion from things 
that are bad, give me leave to propound unto you this 
question. 

Suppose a man, a minister, or a tradesman, etc., 
should have an advantage lie before him to get the 
good blessings of this life, yet so as that he can by no 
means come by them, except in appearance at least, 
he becomes extraordinary zealous in some points of 
religion that he meddled not with before ; may he not 
use this means to attain his end, and yet be a right 
honest man? 

Money. I see the bottom of your question; and 
with these gentlemen^ good leave, I will endeavor to 
shape you an answer. And first, to speak to your ques- 
tion as it concerneth a minister himself: suppose a 
minister, a worthy man, possessed but of a very small 
benefice, and has in his eye a greater, more fat and 
plump by far ; he has also now an opportunity of get- 
ting it, yet so as by being more studious, by preaching 
more frequently and zealously, and, because the temper 
of the people requires it, by altering of some of his 



DISCOURSE OF BY-ENDS AND HIS COMPANIONS. I33 

principles : for my part, I see no reason why a man 
may not do this, provided he has a call, ay, and more 
a great deal besides, and yet be an honest man. For 
why? 

1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful, (this 
cannot be contradicted), since it is set before him by 
Providence ; so then he may get it if he can, making no 
question for conscience' sake. 

2. Besides his desire after that benefice makes him 
more studious, a more zealous preacher, etc., and so 
makes him a better man, yea, makes him better improve 
his parts, which is according to the mind of God. 

3. Now, as for his complying with the temper of his 
people, by deserting, to serve them, some of his prin- 
ciples this argueth, 1. That he is of a self-denying tem- 
per. 2. Of a sweet and winning deportment. And, 
3. So more fit for the ministerial function. 

4. I conclude, then, that a minister that changes a 
small for a great, should not, for so doing, be judged 
as covetous ; but rather, since he is improved in his 
parts and industry thereby, be counted as one that 
pursues his call, and the opportunity put into his hand 
to do good. 

And now to the second part of the question, which 
concerns the tradesman you mentioned. Suppose such 
an one to have but a poor employ in the world, but by 
becoming religious, he may mend his market, perhaps 
get a rich wife, or more and far better customers to his 
shop, for my part, I see no reason but this may be law- 
fully done. For why? 

1. To become religious is a virtue, by what means 
soever man become so. 

2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or more cus- 
tom to my shop. 



134 DISCOURSE OF BY-ENDS AND HIS COMPANIONS. 

3. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming 
religious, gets that which is good of them that are good, 
by becoming good himself; so then here is a good 
wife, and good customers, and good gain, and all these 
by becoming religious, which is good ; therefore, to 
become religious to get all these is a good and profit- 
able design. 

This answer thus made by Mr. Money-love to Mr. By- 
ends's question was highly applauded by them all, where- 
fore they concluded upon the whole, that it was most 
wholesome and advantageous. And because, as they 
thought, no man was able to contradict it, and because 
Christian and Hopeful were yet within call, they jointly 
agreed to assault them with the question as soon as 
they overtook them ; and the rather, because they had 
opposed Mr. By-ends before. So they called after them, 
and they stopped and stood still till they came up to 
them ; but they concluded as they went, that not 
Mr. By-ends, but old Mr. Hold-the-World, should 
propound the question to them, because, as they sup- 
posed, their answer to him would be without the re- 
mainder of that heat that was kindled betwixt Mr. By- 
ends and them at their parting a little before. 

So they came up to each other, and after a short 
salutation, Mr. Hold-the-World propounded the ques- 
tion to Christian and his fellow, and bid them to answer 
it if they could. 

Then said Christian, Even a babe in religion may 
answer ten thousand such questions. For if it be un- 
lawful to follow Christ for loaves, as it is, John, vi., 26 ; 
how much more abominable is it to make of him and 
religion a stalking-horse to get and enjoy the world ! 
Nor do we find any other than heathens, hypocrites, 
devils, and wizards, that are of this opinion : 



CHRISTIANS ANSWER TO MR. HOLD-THE-WORLD. I35 

1. Heathens: for when Hamor and Shechem had a 
mind to the daughter and cattle of Jacob, and saw that 
there was no way for them to come at them but by be- 
coming circumcised, they said to their companions, If 
every male of us be circumcised, as they are circum- 
cised, shall not their cattle, and their substance, and 
every beast of theirs be ours? Their daughters and 
their cattle were that which they sought to obtain, and 
their religion the stalking-horse they made use of to 
come at them. Read the whole story, Gen., xxxiv., 
20-24. 

2. The hypocritical Pharisees were also of this 
religion : long prayers were their pretence ; but to get 
widows' houses was their intent, and greater dam- 
nation was from God their judgment, Luke, xx., 46, 

47- 

3. Judas, the devil, was also of this religion : he was 
religious for the bag, that he might be possessed of 
what was put therein ; but he was lost, cast away, and 
the very son of perdition. 

4. Simon, the wizard, was of this religion too ; for he 
would have had the Holy Ghost, that he might have 
got money therewith : and his sentence from Peter's 
mouth was according, Acts, viii., 19-22. 

5. Neither will it go out of my mind, but that that 
man who takes up religion for the world, will throw 
away religion for the world ; for so surely as Judas 
designed the world in becoming religious, so surely 
did he also sell religion and his Master for the same. 
To answer the question, therefore, affirmatively, as I 
perceive you have done, and to accept of, as authentic, 
such answer, is heathenish, hypocritical, and devilish; 
and your reward will be according to your works. 

Then they stood staring one upon another, but had 



I36 THE PLAIN OF EASE — LUCRE HILL. 

not wherewith to answer Christian. Hopeful also 
approved of the soundness of Christian's answer ; so 
there was a great silence among them. Mr. By-ends 
and his company also staggered, and kept behind, that 
Christian and Hopeful might outgo them. Then said 
Christian to his fellow If these men cannot stand before 
the sentence of men, what will they do with the sen- 
tence of God? And if they are mute when dealt with 
by vessels of clay, what will they do when they shall 
be rebuked by the flames of a devouring fire? 

Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, 
and went till they came at a delicate plain, called Ease, 
where they went with much content ; but that plain 
was but narrow, so they were quickly got over it. Now 
at the farther side of that plain was a little hill, called 
Lucre, and in that hill a silver mine, which some of 
them that had formerly gone that way, because of the 
rarity of it, had turned aside to see ; but going too 
near the brim of the pit, the ground, being deceitful 
under them, broke, and they were slain : some also 
had been maimed there, and could not, to their dying 
day, be their own men again. 

Then I saw in my dream, that a little off the road, 
over against the silver mine, stood Demas (gentleman- 
like) to call to passengers to come and see ; who said 
to Christian and his fellow, Ho ! turn aside hither, and 
I will show you a thing. 

Chr. What thing so deserving as to turn us out of 
the way? 

Demas. Here is a silver mine, and some digging in 
it for treasure ; if you will come, with a little pains you 
may richly provide for yourselves. 

Hope. Then said Hopeful, let us go see. 

Chr. Not I, said Christian; I have heard of this 



DEMAS INVITES THE PILGRIMS TO TURN ASIDE. 1 37 

place before now, and how many have there been 
slain ; and, besides, that treasure is a snare to those 
that seek it. for it hindereth them in their pilgrimage. 

Then Christian called to Demas, saying, Is not the 
place dangerous? Hath it not hindered many in their 
pilgrimage? Hosea, ix., 6. 

Demas. Not very dangerous, except to those that 
are careless ; but withal, he blushed as he spake. 

Then said Christian to Hopeful, Let us not stir a 
step, but still keep on our way. 

Hope. I will warrant you. when By-ends comes up, 
if he hath the same invitation as we, he will turn in 
thither to see. 

Chr. No doubt thereof, for his principles lead him 
that way, and a hundred to one but he dies there. 

Demas. Then Demas called again, saying, but will 
you not come over and see ? 

Chr. Then Christian roundly answered, saying, 
Demas, thou art an enemy to the right ways of the 
Lord of this way, and hast been already condemned 
for thine own turning aside, by one of his Majesty's 
judges, 2 Tim., iv., 10; and why seekest thou to bring 
us into the like condemnation? Besides, if we at all 
turn aside, our Lord the King will certainly hear 
thereof, and will there put us to shame, where we 
would stand with boldness before him. 

Demas cried again, that he also was one of their 
fraternity ; and that if they would tarry a little he also 
himself would walk with them. 

Then said Christian, What is thy name? Is it not 
the same by the which I have called thee? 

Demas. Yes, my name is Demas; I am the son of 
Abraham. 

Chr. I know you ; Gehazi was your great grandfather, 



I38 BY-ENDS GOES OVER TO DEMAS. 

and Judas your father, and you have trod in their steps ; 
it is but a devilish prank that thou usest : thy father 
was hanged for a traitor, and thou deservest no better 
reward, 2 Kings, v., 20-27; Matt., xxvi., 14, 15; 
xxvii., 3-5. Assure thyself, that when we come to 
the King, we will tell him of this thy behavior. Thus 
they went their way. 

By this time By-ends and his companions were come 
again within sight, and they at the first beck went 
over to Demas. Now, whether they fell into the pit by 
looking over the brink thereof, or whether they went 
down to dig, or whether they were smothered in the 
bottom by the damps that commonly arise, of these 
things I am not certain ; but this I observed, that they 
were never seen again in the way. Then sang Chris- 
tian : 

By-ends and silver Demas both agree; 

One calls, the other runs, that he may be 

A sharer in his lucre : so these two 

Take up in this world, and no farther go. 

Now I saw, that just on the other side of this plain, 
the pilgrims came to a place where stood an old monu- 
ment hard by the highway-side, at the sight of which 
they were both concerned, because of the strangeness 
of the form thereof; for it seemed to them as if it had 
been a woman transformed into the shape of a pillar. 
Here, therefore, they stood looking and looking upon 
it, but could not for a time tell what they should make 
thereof. At last Hopeful espied, written above upon 
the head thereof, a writing in an unusual hand ; but he 
being no scholar, called to Christian (for he was 
learned) to see if he could pick out the meaning: so 
he came, and after a little laying of letters together, he 
found the same to be this, " Remember Lot's wife." 



PILLAR INSCRIBED "REMEMBER LOT'S WIFE. 1 ' 139 

So he read it to his fellow ; after which they both con- 
cluded that that was the pillar of salt into which Lot's 
wife was turned, for her looking back with a covetous 
heart when she was going from Sodom, Gen., xix., 
26. Which sudden and amazing sight gave them 
occasion of this discourse. 

Chr. Ah, my brother! this is a seasonable sight, it 
came opportunely to us after the invitation which 
Demas gave us to come over to view the hill Lucre ; 
and had & we gone over, as he desired us, and as thou 
wast inclined to do, my brother, we had, for aught I 
know, been made ourselves a spectacle for those that 
shall come after to behold. 

Hope. I am sorry that I was so foolish, and made to 
wonder that 1 am not now as Lot's wife ; for wherein 
was the difference betwixt her sin and mine? She only 
looked back, and I had a desire to go see. Let grace 
be adored ; and let me be ashamed that ever such a 
thing should be in mine heart. 

Chr. Let us take notice of what we see here, for 
our help for time to come. This woman escaped one 
judgment, for she fell not by the destruction of Sodom ; 
yet^she was destroyed by another, as we see ; she is 
turned into a pillar of salt. 

Hope. True, and she may be to us both caution and 
example ; caution, that we should shun her sin, or a 
sign of what judgment will overtake such as shall not 
be prevented by this caution; so Korah, Dathan, and 
Abiram, with the two hundred and fifty men that 
perished in their sin, did also become a sign or example 
to others to beware, Num., xvi., 31, 32; xxvi., 9, 10. 
But above all, 1 muse at one thing, to wit, how Demas 
and his fellows can stand so confidently yonder to look 
for that treasure, which this woman but for looking 



140 DISCOURSE ABOUT LOT'S WIFE. 

behind after her (for we read not that she stepped one 
foot out of the way) was turned into a pillar of salt ; 
especially since the judgment which overtook her did 
but make her an example within sight of where they 
are ; for they cannot choose but see her, did they but 
lift up their eyes. 

Chr. It is a thing to be wondered at, and it argueth 
that their hearts are grown desperate in the case ; and 
I cannot tell who to compare them to so fitly, as to 
them that pick pockets in the presence of the judge, or 
that will cut purses under the gallows. It is said of 
the men of Sodom, that they were sinners exceedingly, 
because they were sinners " before the Lord," that is, 
in his eyesight and notwithstanding the kindnesses that 
he had shown them ; for the land of Sodom was now 
like the garden of Eden heretofore, Gen., xiii., 10-13. 
This, therefore, provoked him the most to jealousy, 
and made their plague as hot as the fire of the Lord 
out of heaven could make it. And it is most rationally 
to be concluded, that such, even such as these are that 
shall sin in the sight, yea, and that too in despite of 
such examples that are set continually before them to 
caution them to the contrary, must be partakers of 
severest judgments. 

Hope. Doubtless thou hast said the truth ; but what 
a mercy is it that neither thou, but especially I, am not 
made myself this example ! This ministereth occasion 
to us to thank God, to fear before him, and always to 
remember Lot's wife. 

I saw then that they went on their way to a pleasant 
river, which David, the king, called " the river of God ; " 
but John, " the river of the water of life, 1 ' Ps., lxv., 9 ; 
Rev., xxii., 1 ; Ezek., xlvii., 1-9. Now their way lay 
just upon the bank of this river: here, therefore, Chris- 



THE RIVER OF LIFE — THE PLEASANT MEADOW. I4.I 

tian and his companion walked with great delight, they 
drank also of the water of the river, which was pleas- 
ant and enlivening to their weary spirits. Besides, on 
the banks of this river, on either side, were green trees 
with all manner of fruit ; and the leaves they ate to 
prevent surfeits, and other diseases that are incident to 
those that heat their blood by travel. On either side 
of the river was also a meadow, curiously beautified 
with lilies, and it was green all the year long. In this 
meadow they lay down and slept, for here they might 
lie down safely, Ps., xxiii., 2; Isa., xiv., 30. When 
they awoke, they gathered again of the fruit of the trees, 
and drank again of the water of the river, and then lay 
down again to sleep. Thus they did several days and 
nights. Then they sang. 

Behold ye how these crystal streams do glide, 

To comfort pilgrims by the highway-side. 

The meadows green, besides their fragrant smell. 

Yield dainties for them ; and he who- can tell 

What pleasant fruit, yea, leaves, these trees do yield, 

Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field. 

So when they were disposed to go on (for they were 
not as yet at their journey's end), they ate, and drank, 
and departed. 

Now I beheld in my dream, that they had not jour- 
neyed far, but the river and the way for a time parted, 
at which they were not a little sorry; yet they durst 
not go out of the way. Now the way from the river 
was rough, and their feet tender by reason of their 
travels ; so the souls of the pilgrims were much dis- 
couraged because of the way, Num., xxi., 4. Where- 
fore still as they went on, they wished for a better way. 
Now a little before them, there was on the left hand 
of the road a meadow and a stile to go over into it, 



142 THE PILGRIMS GO INTO BY-PATH MEADOW. 

and that meadow is called By-path meadow. Then 
said Christian to his fellow, If this meadow lieth along 
by our wayside, let's go over into it. Then he went 
to the stile to see, and behold a path lay along by the 
way on the other side of the fence. It is according to 
my wish, said Christian ; here is the easiest going ; 
come, good Hopeful, and let us go over. 

Hope. But, how if this path should lead us out of 
the way ? 

Chr. That is not likely, said the other. Look, doth 
it not go along by the wayside? So Hopeful, being 
persuaded by his fellow, went after him over the stile. 
When they were gone over, and were got into the 
path, they found it very easy for their foot ; and withal, 
they looking before them, espied a man walking as 
they did, and his name was Vain-Confidence : so they 
called after him, and asked him whither that way led. 
He said, To the Celestial Gate. Look, said Christian, 
did not I tell you so? by this you may see we are right. 
So they followed, and he went before them. But 
behold the night came on, and it grew very dark ; so 
that they that were behind lost the sight of him that 
went before. 

He therefore that went before (Vain-Confidence by 
name), not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep 
pit, which was on purpose there made, by the prince 
of those grounds, to catch vainglorious fools withal, 
and was dashed in pieces with his fall, Isa., ix., 16. 

Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall. So 
they called to know the matter, but there was none to 
answer, only they heard a groaning. Then said Hope- 
ful, Where are we now? Then was his fellow silent, 
as mistrusting that he had led him out of the way; 
and now it besan to rain, and thunder and lighten 



THE SAD SITUATION OF THE PILGRIMS. 1 43 

in a most dreadful manner, and the water rose 
amain. 

Then Hopeful groaned in himself, saying, Oh that 
I had kept on my way ! 

Chr. Who could have thought that this path should 
have led us out of the way ? 

Hope. I was afraid on't at the very first, and there- 
fore gave you that gentle caution. I would have spoke 
plainer, but that you are older than I. 

Chr. Good brother, be not offended ; I am sorry 
I have brought thee out of the way, and that I have 
put thee into such imminent danger. Pray, my brother, 
forgive me ; I did not do it of an evil intent. 

Hope. Be comforted, my brother, for I forgive 
thee ; and believe, too, that this shall be for our good. 

Chr. I am glad I have with me a merciful brother; 
but we must not stand here ; let us try to go back again. 

Hope. But, good brother, let me go before. 

Chr. No, if you please, let me go first, that if there 
be any danger, I may be first therein, because by my 
means we are both gone out of the way. 

No, said Hopeful, you shall not go first, for your 
mind being troubled may lead you out of the way 
again. Then for their encouragement they heard the 
voice of one saying, " Let thine heart be toward 
the highway, even the way that thou wentest : turn 
again,' 1 Jer., xxxi., 21. But by this time the waters 
were greatly risen, by reason of which the way of 
going back was very dangerous. (Then I thought 
that it is easier going out of the way when we are in, 
than going in when we are out.) Yet they adventured 
to go back; but it was so dark, and the flood was so 
high, that in their going back they had like to have 
been drowned nine or ten times. 



144 GIANT DESPAIR CONFINES THEM. 

Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get 
again to the stile that night. Wherefore at last, light- 
ing under a little shelter, they sat down there until the 
day brake ; but, being weary, they fell asleep. Now 
there was, not far from the place they lay, a castle, 
called Doubting-Castle, the owner whereof was Giant 
Despair, and it was in his grounds they now were 
sleeping : wherefore he, getting up in the morning 
early, and walking up and down in his fields, caught 
Christian and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then 
with a grim and surly voice he bid them awake, and 
asked them whence they were, and what they did in 
his grounds. They told him they were pilgrims, and 
that they had lost their way. Then said the giant, 
You have this night trespassed on me by trampling 
in and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must 
go along with me. So they were forced to go, 
because he was stronger than they. They also had 
but little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. 
The giant, therefore, drove them before him, and put 
them into his castle, into a very dark dungeon, nasty, 
and stinking to the spirits of these two men. Here, 
then, they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday 
night, without one bit of bread or drop of drink, or 
light, or any to ask how they did : they were, therefore, 
here in evil case, and were far from friends and ac- 
quaintance, Ps., lxxxviii., 1 8. Now in this place 
Christian had double sorrow, because it was through 
his unadvised counsel that they were brought into this 
distress. 

Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was 
Diffidence : so when he was gone to bed he told his 
wife what he had done, to wit, that he had taken a 
couple of prisoners, and cast them into his dungeon for 



GIANT DESPAIR'S DREADFUL TREATMENT. 145 

trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked her also 
what he had best to do further with them. So she 
asked him what they were, whence they came, and 
whither they were bound, and he told her. Then she 
counselled him, that when he arose in the morning he 
should beat them without mercy. So when he arose, 
he getteth him a grievous crabtree cudgel, and goes 
down into the dungeon to them, and there first falls to 
rateing of them as if they were dogs, although they 
never gave him a word of distaste. Then he falls 
upon them, and beats them fearfully, in such sort that 
they were not able to help themselves, or to turn them 
upon the floor. This done, he withdraws and leaves 
them there to condole their misery, and to mourn 
under their distress ; so all that day they spent their 
time in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The 
next night, she, talking with her husband further about 
them, and understanding that they were yet alive, did 
advise him to counsel them to make away with them- 
selves. So when morning was come, he goes to them 
in a surly manner, as before, and perceiving them to be 
very sore with the stripes that he had given them the 
day before, he told them, that since they were never 
like to come out of that place, their only way would be 
forthwith to make an end of themselves, either with 
knife, halter, or poison : for why, said he, should you 
choose to live, seeing it is attended with so much bit- 
terness? But they desired him to let them go. With 
that he looked ugly upon them, and rushing to them, 
had doubtless made an end of them himself, but that he 
fell into one of his fits ( for he sometimes in sunshiny 
weather fell into fits), and lost for a time the use of his 
hands ; wherefore he withdrew, and left them as before 
to consider what to do. Then did the prisoners consult 



I46 THE PILGRIMS DISCOURSE IN THE DUNGEON. 

between themselves, whether it was best to take his 
counsel or no ; and thus they began to discourse. 

Brother, said Christian, what shall we do? The 
life that we now live is miserable. For my part, I 
know not whether is best to live thus, or to die out of 
hand. My soul chooseth strangling rather than life, 
and the grave is more easy for me than this dungeon, 
Job, vii., 15. Shall we be ruled by the giant? 

Hope. Indeed our present condition is dreadful, and 
death would be far more welcome to me than thus for- 
ever to abide ; but yet let us consider, the Lord of the 
country to which we are going hath said, " Thou shalt 
do no murder," no, not to another man's person ; much 
more then are we forbidden to take his counsel to kill 
ourselves. Besides, he that kills another, can but com- 
mit murder upon his body ; but for one to kill himself, 
is to kill body and soul at once. And, moreover, my 
brother, thou talkest of ease in the grave, but hast thou 
forgotton the hell whither for certain the murderers go ? 
for, " no murderer hath eternal life," &c. And let us 
consider again, that all the law is not in the hand of 
Giant Despair ; others, so far as I can understand, 
have been taken by him as well as we, and yet have 
escaped out of his hands. Who knows but that God, 
who made the world, may cause that Giant Despair 
may die ; or that at some time or other he may forget to 
lock us in ; or but he may, in a short time, have another 
of his fits before us, and he may lose the use of his 
limbs? And if ever that should come to pass again, 
for my part, I am resolved to pluck up the heart of a 
man, and to try my utmost to get from under his hand. 
I was a fool that I did not try to do it before. But, 
however, my brother, let us be patient, and endure a 
while ; the time may come that may give us a happy 



THE PILGRIMS DISCOURSE IN THE DUNGEON. 1 47 

release; but let us not be our own murderers. With 
these words Hopeful at present did moderate the mind 
of his brother ; so they continued together in the dark 
that day, in their sad and doleful condition. 

Well, toward evening the giant goes down into the 
dungeon again, to see if his prisoners had taken his 
counsel. But when he came there he found them alive ; 
and truly, alive was all ; for now, what for want of 
bread and water, and by reason of the wounds they 
received when he beat them, they could do little but 
breathe. But I say, he found them alive ; at which he 
fell into a grievous rage, and told them, that seeing they 
had disobeyed his counsel, it should be worse with them 
than if they had never been born. 

At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Chris- 
tian fell into a swoon ; but coming a little to himself 
again, they renewed their discourse about the gianfs 
counsel, and whether yet they had best take it or no. 
Now Christian again seemed for doing it ; but Hopeful 
made his second reply as folio weth. 

My brother, said he, rememberest thou not how val- 
iant thou hast been heretofore? Apollyon could not 
crush thee, nor could all that thou didst hear, or see, 
or feel, in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. What 
hardship, terror, and amazement hast thou already 
gone through ! and art thou now nothing but fears ! 
Thou seest that I am in the dungeon with thee, a 
far weaker man by nature than thou art. Also this 
giant hath wounded me as well as thee, and also cut off 
the bread and water from my mouth, and with thee I 
mourn without the light. But let us exercise a little 
more patience. Remember how thou playedst the man 
at Vanity Fair, and wast neither afraid of the chain nor 
cage, nor yet of bloody death: wherefore let us (at 



148 COUNSEL OF DIFFIDENCE, THE GIANT'S WIFE. 

least to avoid the shame that it becomes not a Christian 
to be found in ) bear up with patience as well as we 
can. 

Now night being come again, and the giant and his 
wife being in bed, she asked him concerning the pris- 
oners, and if they had taken his counsel : to which he 
replied, They are sturdy rogues ; they choose rather to 
bear all hardships than to make away with themselves. 
Then said she, Take them into the castle-yard to-mor- 
row, and show them the bones and skulls of those that 
thou hast already despatched, and make them believe, 
ere a week comes to an end, thou wilt tear them in 
pieces, as thou hast done their fellows before them. 

So when the morning was come, the giant goes to them 
again, and takes them into the castle-yard, and shows 
them as his wife had bidden him. These, said he, 
were pilgrims, as you are, once, and they trespassed on 
my grounds as you have done ; and when I thought fit 
I tore them in pieces, and so within ten days I will do 
you ; go, get you down to your den again. And with 
that he beat them all the way thither. They lay, there- 
fore, all day on Saturday in lamentable case, as before. 
Now when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence 
and her husband, the giant, were got to bed, they 
began to renew their discourse of their prisoners ; and 
withal the old giant wondered, that he could neither by 
his blows nor counsel bring them to an end. And with 
that his wife replied, I fear, said she, that they live in 
hopes that some will come to relieve them ; or that they 
have picklocks about them, by means of which they hope 
to escape. And sayest thou so, my dear ? said the giant ; 
I will therefore search them in the morning. 

Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to 
pray, and continued in prayer till almost break of day. 



THEY ESCAPE FROM DOUBTING-CASTLE. 149 

Now, a little before it was day, good Christian, as 
one half amazed, brake out into this passionate speech ; 
What a fool, quoth he, am I, to lie in a stinking dun- 
geon, when I may as well walk at liberty ! I have a key 
in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, 
open any lock in Doubting-Castle. Then said Hopeful, 
That's good news ; good brother, pluck it out of thy 
bosom, and try. 

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began 
to try at the dungeon-door, whose bolt, as he turned 
the key, gave back and the door flew open with ease, 
and Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he 
went to the outward door that leads into the castle- 
yard, and with his key opened that door also. After 
that he went to the iron gate, for that must be opened 
too, but that lock went desperately hard, yet the key 
did open it. Then they thrust open the gate to make 
their escape with speed ; but that gate, as it opened, 
made such a creaking that it waked Giant Despair, who, 
hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to 
fail ; for his fits took him again, so that he could by 
no means go after them. Then they went on, and 
came to the King's highway again, and so were safe, 
because they were out of his jurisdiction. 

Now when they were gone over the stile, they began 
to contrive with themselves what they should do at 
that stile, to prevent those that shall come after from 
falling into the hands of Giant Despair. So they con- 
sented to erect there a pillar, and to engrave upon the 
side thereof this sentence; " Over this stile is the way 
to Doubting-Castle, which is kept by Giant Despair, 
who despiseth the King of the Celestial Country, and 
seeks to destroy his holy pilgrims. 1 ' Many, there- 
fore, that followed after, read what was written, 



I50 THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS. 

and escaped the danger. This done, they sang as 
follows : 

Out of the way we went, and then we found 

What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground ; 

And let them that come after have a care 

Lest they for trespassing his pris'ners are, 

Whose castle's Doubting, and whose name's Despair. 

They then went till they came to the Delectable 
Mountains, which mountains belong to the Lord of 
that hill of which we have spoken before. So they 
went up to the mountains, to behold the gardens and 
orchards, the vineyards and fountains of water ; where 
also they drank and washed themselves, and did freely 
eat of the vineyards. Now there were on the tops of 
these mountains shepherds feeding their flocks, and 
they stood by the highway-side. The pilgrims, there- 
fore, went to them, and leaning upon their staffs (as 
is common with weary pilgrims when they stand to 
talk with any by the way), they asked, Whose Delect- 
able Mountains are these, and whose be the sheep that 
feed upon them? 

Shep. These mountains are Emmanuel's land, and 
they are within sight of his city ; and the sheep also 
are his, and he laid down his life for them. 

Chr. Is this the way to the Celestial City? 

Shep. You are just in your way. 

Chr. How far is it thither? 

Shep. Too far for any but those who shall get 
thither indeed. 

Chr. Is the way safe, or dangerous? 

Shep. Safe for those for whom it is to be safe ; but 
transgressors shall fall therein, Hos., xiv., 9. 

Chr. Is there in this place any relief for pilgrims 
that are weary and faint in the way? 



THE MOUNTAIN OF ERROR 151 

Shep. The Lord of these mountains hath given us 
a charge not to be forgetful to entertain strangers : 
therefore the good of the place is before you, Heb., 
xiii., 2. 

I saw also in my dream, that when the Shepherds 
perceived that they were wayfaring men, they also put 
questions to them (to which they made answer as in 
other places) as, Whence came you? and, How got you 
into the way ? and, By what means have you so persevered 
therein ? for but few of them that begin to come hither, 
do show their faces on these mountains. But when the 
Shepherds heard their answers, being pleased there- 
with, they looked very lovingly upon them, and said, 
Welcome to the Delectable Mountains. 

The Shepherds, I say ; whose names were Knowl- 
edge, Experience, Watchful, and Sincere, took them by 
the hand, and had them to their tents, and made them 
partake of what was ready at present. They said, 
moreover, We would that you should stay here a while, 
to be acquainted with us, and yet more to solace your- 
selves with the good of these Delectable Mountains. 
They then told them that they were content to stay. 
So they went to rest that night, because it was very 
late. 

Then I saw in my dream, that in the morning the 
Shepherds calfed up Christian and Hopeful to walk with 
them upon the mountains. So they went forth with 
them, and walked a while, having a pleasant prospect 
on every side. Then said the Shepherds one to 
another, Shall we show these pilgrims some wonders? 
So when they had concluded to do it, they had them 
first to the top of a hill, called Error, which was very 
steep on the farthest side, and bid them look down to 
the bottom. So Christian and Hopeful looked down, 



152 



MOUNT CAUTION. 



and saw at the bottom several men dashed all to p'leces 
by a fall that they had from the top. Then said Chris- 
tian, What meaneth this? The Shepherds answered, 
Have you not heard of them that were made to err, by 
hearkening to Hymgnaeus and Philetus, as concerning 
the faith of the resurrection of the body? 2 Tim., ii., 
17, 18. They answered, Yes. Then said the Shep- 
herds, Those that you see dashed in pieces at the 
bottom of this mountain are they, and they have con- 
tinued to this day unburied, as you see, for an example 
to others to take heed how they clamber too high, or 
how they come too near the brink of this mountain. 

Then I saw they had them to the top of another 
mountain, and the name of that is Caution, and bid 
them look afar off; which, when they did, they per- 
ceived, as they thought, several men walking up and 
down among the tombs that were there ; and they per- 
ceived that the men were blind, because they stumbled 
sometimes upon the tombs, and because they could 
not get out from among them. Then said Christian, 
What means this ? 

The Shepherds then answered, Did you not see a 
little below these mountains a stile that led into a meadow, 
on the left hand of this way? They answered, Yes. 
Then said the Shepherds, From that stile there goes a 
path that leads directly to Doubting-Castle, which is 
kept by Giant Despair ; and these men (pointing to 
them among the tombs) came once on pilgrimage as 
you do now, even until they came to that same stile. 
And because the right way was rough in that place, 
they chose to go out of it into that meadow, and 
there were taken by Giant Despair, and cast into Doubt- 
ing-Castle, where, after they had awhile been kept in 
the dungeon, he at last put out their eyes and led them 



A BY-WAY TO HELL. 1 53 

among those tombs, where he has left them to wander 
to this very day, that the saying of the wise man might 
be fulfilled, " He that wandereth out of the way of 
understanding shall remain in the congregation of the 
dead, 1 ' Prow, xxi., 16. Then Christian and Hopeful 
looked one upon another, with tears gushing, but yet 
said nothing to the Shepherds. 

Then I saw in my dream, that the Shepherds had 
them to another place in a bottom, where was a door 
on the side of a hill ; and they opened the door, and 
bid them look in. They looked in, therefore, and saw 
that within it was very dark and smoky ; they also 
thought that they heard there a rumbling noise, as of fire, 
and a cry of some tormented, and that they smelt the 
scent of brimstone. Then said Christian, What means 
this ? The Shepherds told them, This is a by-way to 
hell, a way that hypocrites go in at, namely, such as 
sell their birthright, with Esau ; such as sell their 
masters, with Judas ; such as blaspheme the Gospel, 
with Alexander ; and that lie and dissemble, with 
Ananias and Sapphira his wife. 

Then said Hopeful to the Shepherds, I perceive that 
these had on them, even every one, a show of pilgrim- 
age, as we have now ; had they not? 

Shep. Yes, and held it a long time too. 

Hope. How far might they go on in pilgrimage in 
their day, since they, notwithstanding, were thus mis- 
erably cast away? 

Shep. Some farther, and some not so far as these 
mountains. 

Then said the pilgrims one to another, We have need 
to cry to the Strong for strength. 

Shep. Ay, and you will have need to use it when 
you have it, too. 



154 THE PILGRIMS PART FROM THE SHEPHERDS. 

By this time the pilgrims had a desire to go forward, 
and the Shepherds a desire they should ; so they walked 
together toward the end of the mountains. Then said 
the Shepherds one to another, Let us here show the 
pilgrims the gate of the Celestial City, if they have skill 
to look through our perspective glass. The pilgrims 
then lovingly accepted the motion : so they had them 
to the top of a high hill, called Clear, and gave them 
the glass to look. 

Then they tried to look ; but the remembrance of 
that last thing that the Shepherds had shown them 
made their hands shake, by means of which impedi- 
ment they could not look steadily through the glass ; 
yet they thought they saw something like the gate, and 
also some of the glory of the place. Thus they went 
away and sang : 

Thus by the Shepherds secrets are reveal'd 
Which from all other men are kept conceal'd: 
Come to the Shepherds then, if you would see 
Things deep, things hid, and that mysterious be. 

When they were about to depart, one of the Shep- 
herds gave them a note of the way. Another of them 
bid them beware of the Flatterer. The third bid them 
take heed that they sleep not upon the Enchanted 
Ground. And the fourth bid them God speed. So I 
awoke from my dream. 

And I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same 
two pilgrims going down the mountains along the 
highway toward the city. Now a little below these 
mountains, on the left hand, lieth the country of Con- 
ceit ; from which country there comes into the way in 
which the pilgrims walked, a little crooked lane. Here, 



IGNORANCE, FROM THE COUNTRY OF CONCEIT. 1 55 

therefore, they met with a very brisk lad that came out 
of that country, and his name was Ignorance. So 
Christian asked him from what parts he came, and 
whither he was going. 

Ignor. Sir, I was born in the country that lieth off 
there, a little on the left hand, and I am going to the 
Celestial City. 

Chr. But how do you think to get in at the gate, for 
you may find some difficulty there? 

Ignor. As other good people do, said he. 

Chr. But what have you to show at that gate, that 
the gate should be opened to you. 

Ignor. I know my Lord's will, and have been a 
good liver : I pay every man his own ; I pray, fast, pay 
tithes, and give alms, and have left my country for 
whither I am going. 

Chr. But thou earnest not in at the wicket-gate 
that is at the head of this way ; thou earnest in hither 
through that same crooked lane, and therefore I fear, 
however thou mayest think of thyself, when the reck- 
oning-day shall come, thou wilt have laid to thy 
charge, that thou art a thief and a robber, instead of 
getting admittance into the city. 

Ignor. Gentlemen, ye be utter strangers to me ; I 
know you not : be content to follow the religion of 
your country, and I will follow the religion of mine. 
I hope all will be well. And as for the gate that you 
talk of, all the world knows that that is a great way 
off of our country. I cannot think that any man in all 
our parts doth so much as know the way to it ; nor 
need they matter whither they do or no, since we 
have, as you see, a fine, pleasant, green lane, that 
comes down from our country, the next way into the 
way. 



156 turn-away's destruction. 

When Christian saw that the man was wise in his 
own conceit, he said to Hopeful, whisperingly, " There 
is more hope of a fool than of him," Prov., xxvi., 12. 
And said, moreover, " When he that is a fool walketh 
by the way, his wisdom faileth him, and he saith to 
every one, that he is a fool." Eccles., x., 3. What, 
shall we talk further with him, or outgo him at present, 
and so leave him to think of what he hath heard 
already, and then stop again for him afterwards, and see 
if by degrees we can do any good by him ? Then said 
Hopeful, 

Let Ignorance a little while now muse 
On what is said, and let him not refuse 
Good counsel to embrace, lest he remain 
Still ignorant of what's the chief est gain. 
God saith, those that no understanding have, 
( Although he made them,) them he will not save. 

He further added, It is not good, I think, to say to 
him all at once ; let us pass him by, if you will, and 
talk to him anon, even as he is able to bear it. 

So they both went on, and Ignorance he came after. 
Now when they had passed him a little way, they 
entered into a very dark lane, where they met a man 
whom seven devils had bound with seven strong cords, 
and were carrying back to the door that they saw on 
the side of the hill, Matt., xii., 45; Prov., v., 22. 
Now good Christian began to tremble, and so did 
Hopeful, his companion ; yet, as the devils led away 
the man, Christian looked to see if he knew him, and 
he thought it might be one Turn-away, that dwelt in 
the town of Apostacy. But he did not perfectly see 
his face, for he did hang his head like a thief that is 
found ; but being gone past, Hopeful looked after 



LITTLE-FAITH ROBBED AND ILL-TREATED. 1 57 

him, and espied on his back a paper with this inscrip- 
tion, "Wanton professor, and damnable apostate." 
Then said Christian to his fellow, Now I call to my 
remembrance that which was told me of a thing that 
happened to a good man hereabout. The name of that 
man was Little-Faith ; but a good man, and he dwelt 
in the town of Sincere. The thing was this. At the 
entering in at this passage, there comes down from 
Broadway-gate, a lane, called Dead-man's lane ; so 
called, because of the murders that are commonly done 
there ; and this Little-Faith, going on pilgrimage, as 
we do now, chanced to sit down there and sleep. Now 
there happened at that time to come down the lane 
from Broadway-gate three sturdy rogues, and their 
names were Faint-Heart, Mistrust, and Guilt, three 
brothers ; and they espying Little-Faith, where he was, 
came galloping up with speed. Now the good man 
was just awakened from his sleep, and was getting up 
to go on his journey. So they came up all to him, and 
with threatening language bid him stand. At this, 
Little-Faith looked as white as a sheet, and had neither 
power to fight or fly. Then said Faint-Heart, Deliver 
thy purse ; but he making no haste to do it (for he 
was loth to lose his money), Mistrust ran up to him, 
and thrusting his hand into his pocket, pulled out 
thence a bag of silver. Then he cried out, Thieves, 
thieves! With that, Guilt, with a great club that was 
in his hand, struck Little-Faith on the head, and with 
that blow felled him flat to the ground, where he lay 
bleeding as one that would bleed to death. All this 
while the thieves stood by. But at last, they hearing 
that some were upon the road, and fearing lest it 
should be one Great-Grace that dwells in the city of 
Good-Confidence, they betook themselves to their 



I58 LITTLE FAITH'S TROUBLES. 

heels, and left this good man to shift for himself. Now, 
after a while, Little-Faith came to himself, and getting 
up, made shift to scramble on his way. This was the 
story. 

Hope. But did they take from him all that he ever 
had? 

Chr. No ; the place where his jewels were they 
never ransacked ; so those he kept still. But, as 1 was 
told, the good man was much afflicted for his loss ; for 
the thieves got most of his spending-money. That 
which they got not ( as I said ) were jewels ; also he 
had a little odd money left, but scarce enough to bring 
him to his journey's end. Nay ( if 1 was not misin- 
formed), he was forced to beg as he went, to keep him- 
self alive, for his jewels he might not sell ; but beg and 
do what he could, he went ( as we say ) with many a 
hungry belly the most part of the rest of the way, 1 Pet., 
iv., 18. 

Hope. But is it not a wonder they got not from him 
his certificate, by which he was to receive his admittance 
at the Celestial Gate ? 

Chr. It is a wonder ; but they got not that, though 
they missed it not through any good cunning of his ; 
for he being dismayed by their coming upon him, had 
neither power nor skill to hide anything; so it was 
more by good Providence than by his endeavor that 
they missed of that good thing, 2 Tim., i., 12-14; J 
Pet., i., 5-9. 

Hope. But it must needs be a comfort to him that 
they got not this jewel from him. 

Chr. It might have been great comfort to him, had 
he used it as he should ; but they that told me the 
story said, that he made but little use of it all the rest 
of the way, and that because of the dismay that he had 



DISCOURSE ABOUT LITTLE-FAITH. 1 59 

in their taking away his money. Indeed, he forgot it a 
great part of the rest of his journey ; and besides, when 
at any time it came into his mind, and he began to be 
comforted therewith, then would fresh thoughts of his 
loss come again upon him, and these thoughts would 
swallow up all. 

Hope. Alas, poor man, this could not but be a grief 
unto him. 

Chr. Grief? Ay, a grief indeed ! Would it not have 
been so to any of us, had we been used as he, to be 
robbed and wounded too, and that in a strange place, 
as he was ? It is a wonder he did not die with grief, 
poor heart. I was told that he scattered almost all the 
rest of the way with nothing but doleful and bitter com- 
plaints ; telling also to all that overtook him, or that he 
overtook in the way as he went, where he was robbed, 
and how ; who they were that did it, and what he had 
lost ; how he was wounded, and that he hardly escaped 
with life. 

Hope. But it is a wonder that his necessity did not 
put him upon selling or pawning some of his jewels, 
that he might have wherewith to relieve himself in his 
journey. 

Chr. Thou talkest like one upon whose head is the 
shell to this very clay. For what should he pawn them? 
or to whom should he sell them? In all that country 
where he was robbed, his jewels were not accounted of; 
nor did he want that relief which could from thence be 
administered to him. Besides, had his jewels been 
missing at the gate of the Celestial City, he had ( and 
that he knew well enough ) been excluded from an 
inheritance there, and that would have been worse to 
him than the appearance and villany of ten thousand 
thieves. 



l6o DISCOURSE ABOUT LITTLE-FAITH. 

Hope. Why art thou so tart, my brother? Esau 
sold his birthright, and that for a mess of pottage, Heb., 
xii., 16; and that birthright was his greatest jewel; 
and if he, why might not Little-Faith do so too? 

Chr. Esau did sell his birthright indeed, and so do 
many besides, and by so doing exclude themselves 
from the chief blessing, as also that caitiff did ~ but you 
must put a difference betwixt Esau and Little-Faith 
and also betwixt their estates. Esau's birthright was 
typical ; but Little-Faith's jewels were not so. Esau's 
belly was his god ; but Little-Faith's belly was not so. 
Esau's want lay in his fleshly appetite ; Little-Faith's 
did not so. Besides, Esau could see no further than 
to the fulfilling of his lusts ; For I am at the point to 
die, said he ; and what good will this birthright do me? 
Gen., xxv., 32. But Little-Faith, though it was his lot 
to have but a little faith, was by his little faith kept from 
such extravagances, and made to see and prize his jewels 
more than to sell them, as Esau did his birthright. You 
read not anywhere that Esau had faith, no, not so much 
as a little ; therefore no marvel, where the flesh only 
bears sway (as it will in that man where no faith is to 
resist), if he sells his birthright, and his soul and all, 
and that to the devil of hell ; for it is with such as it is 
with the ass, who in her occasion cannot be turned 
away, Jer., ii., 24. When their minds are set upon 
their lusts, they will have them, whatever they cost : 
but Little-Faith was of another temper ; his mind was 
on things divine ; his livelihood was upon things that 
were spiritual, and from above ; therefore to what end 
should he that is of such a temper sell his jewels ( had 
there been any that would have bought them) , to fill 
his mind with empty things? Will a man give a penny 
to fill his belly with hay? or can you persuade the 



DISCOURSE ABOUT LITTLE-FAITH. l6l 

turtle-dove to live upon carrion, like the crow ? Though 
faithless ones can, for carnal lusts, pawn, or mortgage, 
or sell what they have, and themselves outright to boot ; 
yet they that have faith, saving faith, though but a little 
of it, cannot do so. Here, therefore, my brother, is thy 
mistake. 

Hope. I acknowledge it ; but yet your severe reflec- 
tion had almost made me angry. 

Chr. Why, I did but compare thee to some of the 
birds that are of the brisker sort, who will run to and 
fro in trodden paths with the shell upon their heads : 
but pass by that, and consider the matter under debate, 
and all shall be well betwixt thee and me. 

Hope. But, Christian, these three fellows, I am per- 
suaded in my heart, are but a company of cowards : 
would they have run else, think you, as they did at the 
noise of one that was coming on the road? Why did 
not Little-Faith pluck up a greater heart? He might, 
methinks, have stood one brush with them, and have 
yielded when there had been no remedy. 

Chr. That they are cowards, many have said, but 
few have found it so in the time of trial. As for a great 
heart, Little-Faith had none ; and I perceive by thee, 
my brother, hadst thou been the man concerned, thou 
art but for a brush, and then to yield. And verily, since 
this is the height of thy stomach now they are at a dis- 
tance from us, should they appear to thee, as they did 
*to him, they might put thee to second thoughts. 

But consider again, they are but journeymen thieves ; 
they serve under the king of the bottomless pit, who, 
if need be, will come in to their aid himself; and his voice 
is as the roaring of a lion, i Pet., v., 8. I myself have 
been engaged as this Little-Faith was, and I found 
it a terrible thing. These three villains set upon me, 



1 62 DISCOURSE ABOUT LITTLE-FAITH. 

and I beginning like a Christian to resist, they gave but 
a call, and in came their master. I would ( as the say- 
ing is ) have given my life for a penny, but that, as God 
would have it, I was clothed with armor of proof. Ay, 
and yet, though I was so harnessed, I found it hard 
work to quit myself like a man; no man can tell what 
in that combat attends us, but he that hath been in the 
battle himself. 

Hope. Well, but they ran, you see, when they did 
but suppose that one Great-Grace was in the way. 

Cur. True, they often have fled, both they and 
their master, when Great-Grace hath but appeared ; 
and no marvel, for he is the King's champion. But 
I trow, you will put some difference betwixt Little- 
Faith and the King's champion. All the king's subjects 
are not his champions ; nor can they, when tried, do 
such feats of war as he. Is it meet to think that a 
little child should handle Goliath as David did? or 
that there should be the strength of an ox in a wren? 
Some are strong, some are weak ; some have great 
faith, some have little : this man was one of the weak, 
and therefore he went to the wall. 

Hope. I would it had been Great-Grace for their 
sakes. 

CHR. If it had been he, he might have had his hands 
full; fori must tell you, that though Great-Grace is 
excellent good at his weapons, and has, and can, so 
long as he keeps them at sword's point, do well enough 
with them; yet if they get within him, even Faint- 
Heart, Mistrust, or the other, it shall go hard but they 
will throw u]) his heels. And when a man is down, 
you know, what can he do? 

Whoso looks well upon Great-Grace's face, will see 
those scars and cuts there, that shall easily give dem- 



DISCOURSE ABOUT LITTLE-FAITH. 1 63 

onstration of what I say. Yea, once I heard that he 
should say (and that when he was in the combat), 
We despaired even of life. How did these sturdy 
rogues and their fellows make David groan, mourn, and 
roar! Yea, Heman, Ps., lxxxviii.; and Hezekiah too, 
though champions in their days, were forced to bestir 
them, when by these assaulted; and yet, notwithstand- 
ing, they had their coats soundly brushed by them. 
Peter, upon a time, would go try what he could do ; 
but though some do say of him that he is the prince 
of the apostles, they handled him so that they made 
him at last afraid of a sorry girl. 

Besides their king is at their whistle ; he is never 
out of hearing ; and if at any time they be put to the 
worst, he, if possible, comes in to help them ; and of 
him it is said, " The sword of him that layeth at him 
cannot hold ; the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon. 
He esteemed iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood. 
The arrow cannot make him fly ; sling-stones are 
turned with him into stubble. Darts are counted as 
stubble ; he laugheth at the shaking of a spear,"" Job, 
xli., 26-29. What can a man do in this case? It is true, 
if a man could at every turn have Job's horse, and had 
skill and courage to ride him, he might do notable 
things. " For his neck is clothed with thunder. He 
will not be afraid as the grasshopper : the glory of his 
nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley, rejoiceth 
in his strength, and goeth out to meet the armed men. 
He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted, neither 
turneth back from the sword. The quiver rattleth 
against him, the glittering spear and the shield. He 
swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage ; 
neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. 
He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smell- 



1 64 DISCOURSE ABOUT LITTLE-FAITH. 

eth the battle afar off, the thundering of the captains, 
and the shoutings, 11 Job, xxxix., 19-25. 

But for such footmen as thee and I are, let us never 
desire to meet with an enemy, nor vaunt as if we could 
do better, when we hear of others that have been 
foiled, nor be tickled at the thoughts of our own man- 
hood ; for such commonly come by the worst when 
tried. Witness Peter, of whom I made mention be- 
fore ; he would swagger, ay, he would ; he would, as 
his vain mind prompted him to say, do better, and 
stand more for his Master than all men ; but who 
so foiled and run down by these villains as he? 

When, therefore, we hear that such robberies are 
done on the King's highway, two things become us 
to do. 

1. To go out harnessed, and to be sure to take a 
shield with us ; for it was- for the want of that, that he 
that laid so lustily at Leviathan could not make him 
yield ; for, indeed, if that be wanting, he fears us not 
at all. Therefore, he that had skill hath said, " Above 
all, take the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able 
to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked, 11 Ephes., vi., 
16. 

2. It is good, also, that we desire of the King a 
convoy, yea, that he will go with us himself. This 
made David rejoice when in the Valley of the Shadow 
of Death ; and Moses was rather for dying where he 
stood, than to go one step without his God, Exod., 
xxxiii., 15. O my brother, if he will but go along with 
us, what need we be afraid often thousands that shall set 
themselves against us? Ps., iii., 5 8 ; xxvii., 1-3. But 
without him, the proud helpers fall under the slain, 
Isa., x., 4. 

I, for my part, have been in the fray before now, 



THE FLATTERER SEDUCES THE PILGRIMS. 1 65 

and though (through the goodness of Him that is best) 
I am, as you see, alive, yet I cannot boast of my man- 
hood. Glad shall I be if I meet with no more such 
brunts ; though I fear we are not got beyond all 
danger. However, since the lion and the bear have 
not as yet devoured me, I hope God will also deliver 
us from the next uncircumcised Philistine. Then sang 
Christian : — 

Poor Little-Faith ! hast been among the thieves ? 
Wast robb'd ? Remember this, whoso believes, 
And get more faith ; then shall your victors be 
Over ten thousand, else scarce over three. 

So they went on, and Ignorance followed. They 
went then till they came at a place where they saw a 
way put itself into their way, and seemed withal to lie 
as straight as the way which they should go ; and here 
they knew not which of the two to take, for both 
seemed straight before them ; therefore here they 
stood still to consider. And as they were thinking 
about the way, behold, a man black of flesh, but 
covered with a very light robe, came to them, and 
asked them why they stood there. They answered, 
they were going to the Celestial City, but knew not 
which of these ways to take. Follow me, said the 
man ; it is thither that I am going. So they followed 
him in the way that but now came into the road, which 
by degrees turned and turned them so from the city 
that they desired to go to, that in a little time their faces 
were turned from it ; yet they followed him. But by and 
by, before they were aware, he led them both within 
the compass of a net, in which they were both so en- 
tangled that they knew not what to do ; and with that 
the white robe fell off the black man's back. Then 
they saw where they were. Wherefore there they lay 



1 66 THE NET — THEIR MISERY. 

crying some time, for they could not themselves get 
out. 

Then said Christian to his fellow, Now do I see 
myself in an error. Did not the Shepherds bid us 
beware of the Flatterer? As is the saying of the wise 
man, so we have found it this day: "A man that 
flattereth his neighbor, spreadeth a net for his feet, 1 ' 
Pro v., xxix., 5. 

Hope. They also gave us a note of directions about 
the way, for our more sure finding thereof; but therein 
we have also forgotten to read, and not kept ourselves 
from the paths of the destroyer. Here David was 
wiser than we, for, saith he, "Concerning the works of 
men, by the word of thy lips I have kept me from the 
paths of the destroyer," Ps., xvii., 4 

Thus they lay bewailing themselves in the net. At 
last they espied a Shining One coming toward them with 
a whip of small cords in his hand. When he was come 
to the place where they were, he asked them whence 
they came, and what they did there. They told him that 
they were poor pilgrims going to Zion, but were led out 
of their way by a black man clothed in white, who bid 
us, said they, follow him, for he was going thither too. 
Then said he with a whip, It is Flatterer, a false apos- 
tle, that hath transformed himself into an angel of 
light. Dan., xi., 32 ; 2 Cor., xi., 13, 14. So he rent the 
net, and let the men out. Then said he to them, Fol- 
low me, that I may set you in your way again. So he 
led them back to the way which they had left to follow 
the Flatterer. Then he asked them, saying, Where did 
you lie the last night ? They said, With the Shepherds 
upon the Delectable Mountains. He asked them then 
if they had not a note of directions for the way. They 
answered, Yes. But did you not, said he, when you 



A SHINING ONE CHASTISES THEM SORELY. 1 67 

were at a stand, pluck out and read your note ? They 
answered, No. He asked them, Why? They said they 
forgot. He asked, moreover, if the Shepherds did not 
bid them beware of the Flatterer. They answered, 
Yes ; but we did not imagine, said they, this fine 
spoken man had been he, Rom., xvi., 17, 18. 

Then I saw in my dream, that he commanded them 
to lie down ; which when they did, he chastised them 
sore, to teach them the good way wherein they should 
walk, Deut., xxv., 2; 2 Chron., vi., 27; and as he 
chastised them, he said, " As many as I love I rebuke 
and chasten ; be zealous, therefore, and repent," Rev., 
iii., 19. This done, he bids them go on their way, and 
take good heed to the other directions of the Shepherds. 
So they thanked him for all his kindness, and went 
softly along the right way, singing : 

Come hither, you that walk along the way, 

See how the pilgrims fare that go astray: 

They catched are in an entangled net, 

' Cause they good counsel lightly did forget, 

' Tis true they rescued were ; but yet, you see, 

They're scourg'd to boot : let this your caution be. 

Now, after a while, they perceived afar off one com- 
ing softly, and alone, all along the highway to meet 
them. Then said Christian to his fellow, Yonder is a 
man with his back toward Zion, and he is coming to 
meet us. 

Hope. I see him ; let us take heed to ourselves now 
lest he should prove a flatterer also. 

So he drew nearer and nearer, and at last came up 
to them. His name was Atheist, and he asked them 
whither they were going. 

Chr. We are going to the Mount Zion. 



1 68 ATHEIST MEETS THE PILGRIMS. 

Then Atheist fell into a very great laughter. 

Chr. What's the meaning of your laughter? 

Atheist. I laugh to see what ignorant persons you 
are, to take upon you so tedious a journey, and yet are 
like to have nothing but your travel for your pains. 

Chr. Why, man, do you think we shall not be 
received ? 

Atheist. Received ! There is not such a place as 
you dream of in all this world. 

Chr. But there is in the world to come. 

Atheist. When I was at home in mine own country, 
I heard as you now affirm, and from that hearing went 
out to see, and have been seeking this city these twenty 
years, but find no more of it than I did the first day I 
set out, Eccles., x., 15 ; Jer., xvii., 15. 

Chr. We have both heard, and believe, that there 
is such a place to be found. 

Atheist. Had not I, when at home, believed, I had 
not come thus far to seek ; but finding none (and yet 

1 should, had there been such a place to be found, for I 
have gone to seek it further than you), I am going back 
again, and will seek to refresh myself with the things 
that I then cast away for hopes of that which I now see 
is not. 

Then said Christian to Hopeful, his companion, Is it 
true which this man hath said? 

Hope. Take heed, he is one of the flatterers. 
Remember what it hath cost us once already for heark- 
ening to such kind of fellows. What ! no Mount Zion? 
Did we not see from the Delectable Mountains the gate 
of the city? Also, are we not now to walk by faith? 

2 Cor., v., 7. Let us go on, lest the man with the whip 
overtake us again. You should have taught me that 
lesson, which I will round you in the ears withal : 



THEY OPPOSE ATHEIST. 1 69 

" Cease, my son, to hear the instruction that causeth to 
err from the words of knowledge, " Prov., xix., 27. I 
say my brother, cease to hear him, and let us believe to 
the saving of the soul, Heb., x., 39. 

Chr. My brother, I did not put the question to thee, 
for that I doubted of the truth of our belief myself, 
but to prove thee, and to fetch from thee a fruit of the 
honesty of thy heart. As for this man, I know that he 
is blinded by the god of this world. Let thee and me 
go on, knowing that we have belief of the truth, and 
no lie is of the truth, 1 John, ii., 21. 

Hope. Now do I rejoice in hope of the glory of God. 

So they turned away from the man, and he, laughing 
at them, went his way. 

I then saw in my dream, that they went on until they 
came into a certain country, whose air naturally tended 
to make one drowsy, if he came a stranger into it. 
And here Hopeful began to be very dull, and heavy to 
sleep ; wherefore he said unto Christian, I do now 
begin to grow so drowsy, that I can scarcely hold open 
mine eyes ; let us lie down here and take one nap. 

Chr. By no means, said the other, lest sleeping we 
never awake more. 

Hope. Why, my brother? sleep is sweet to the 
laboring man ; we may be refreshed if we take a nap. 

Chr. Do you not remember that one of the Shep- 
herds bid us beware of the Enchanted Ground? He 
meant by that, that we should beware of sleeping; 
wherefore " let us not sleep as others do, but let us 
watch and be sober," 1 Thess., v., 6. 

Hope. I acknowledge myself in a fault ; and had I 
been here alone, I had by sleeping run the danger of 
death. I see it is true that the wise man saith, " Two 
are better than one,' 1 Eccles., iv., 9. Hitherto hath thy 



I70 THE ENCHANTED GROUND. 

company been my mercy ; and thou shalt have a good 
reward for thy labor. 

Now, then, said Christian, to prevent drowsiness in 
this place, let us fall into good discourse. 

With all my heart, said the other. 

Chr. Where shall we begin? 

Hope. Where God began with us. But do you be- 
gin, if you please. 

Chr. I will sing you first this song : 

When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither, 
And hear how these two pilgrims talk together; 
Yea, let them learn of them in any wise, 
Thus to keep ope their drowsy, slumb'ring eyes. 
Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well, 
Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell. 

Then Christian began, and said, I will ask you a 
question. How came you to think at first of doing as 
you do now ? 

Hope. Do you mean, how I came at first to look 
after the good of my soul? 

Chr. Yes, that is my meaning. 

Hope. I continued a great while in the delight of 
those things which were seen and sold at our fair : 
things which I believe now would have, had I continued 
in them still, drowned me in perdition and destruction. 

Chr. What things were they? 

Hope. All the treasures and riches of the world. 
Also I delighted much in rioting, revelling, drinking, 
swearing, lying, uncleanness, Sabbath-breaking, and 
what not, that tended to destroy the soul. But I found 
at last, by hearing and considering of things that are 
divine, which, indeed, I heard of you, as also of be- 
loved Faithful that was put to death for his faith and 



hopeful's account of his conversion. 171 

good living in Vanity Fair, that the end of these things 
is death, Rom., vi., 21-23; and that for these things 1 
sake the wrath of God cometh upon" the children of 
disobedience, Eph., v., 6. 

Chr. And did you presently fall under the power 
of this conviction? 

Hope. No, I was not willing presently to know the 
evil of sin, nor the damnation that follows upon the 
commission of it ; but endeavored, when my mind at 
first began to be shaken with the word, to shut mine 
eyes against the light thereof. 

Chr. But what was the cause of your carrying of it 
thus to the first workings of God's blessed Spirit upon 
you ? 

Hope. The causes were, 1. I was ignorant that this 
was the work of God upon me. I never thought that 
by awakenings for sin, God at first begins the conver- 
sion of a sinner. 2. Sin was yet very sweet to my 
flesh, and I was loth to leave it. 3. I could not tell 
how to part with mine old companions, their presence 
and actions were so desirable unto me. 4. The hours 
in which convictions were upon me, were such trouble- 
some and such heart-affrighting hours, that I could not 
bear, no, not so much as the remembrance of them 
upon my heart. 

Chr. Then, as it seems, sometimes you got rid of 
your trouble ? 

Hope. Yes, verily, but it would come into my mind 
again ; and then I should be as bad, nay, worse, than 
I was before. 

Chr. Why, what was it that brought your sins to 
mind again? 

Hope. Many things ; as, 

1 . If I did but meet a good man in the streets ; or, 



172 hopeful's account of his conversion. 

2. If I have heard any read in the Bible ; or, 

3. If my head did begin to ache ; or, 

4 If I were told that some of my neighbors were 
sick ; or, 

5. If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead ; 
or, 

6. If I thought of dying myself; or, 

7. If I heard that sudden death happened to 
others. 

8. But especially when I thought of myself, that I 
must quickly come to judgment. 

Chr. And could you at any time, with ease, get off 
the guilt of sin, when by any of these ways it came 
upon you? 

Hope. No, not I ; for then they got faster hold of 
my conscience ; and then, if I did but think of going 
back to sin (though my mind was turned against it), 
it would be double torment to me. 

Chr. And how did you then? 

Hope. I thought I must endeavor to mend my life ; 
or else thought I, I am sure to be damned. 

Chr. And did you endeavor to mend? 

Hope. Yes, and fled from, not only my sins, but 
sinful company too, and betook me to religious duties ; 
as praying, reading, weeping for sin, speaking truth to 
my neighbors, etc. These things did I, with many 
others, too much here to relate. 

Chr. And did you think yourself well then? 

Hope. Yes, for a while ; but at the last my trouble 
came tumbling upon me again, and that over the neck 
of all my reformations. 

Chr. How came that about, since you were now re- 
formed ? 

Hope. There were several things brought it upon 



hopeful's account of his conversion. 173 

me, especially such sayings as these: "All our right- 
eousnesses are as filthy rags," Isa., lxiv., 6. "By the 
works of the law shall no flesh be justified," Gal., ii., 
16. "When ye have done all those things, say, We 
are unprofitable," Luke, xvii., 10; with many more 
such like. From whence I began to reason with my- 
self thus : If all my righteousnesses are as filthy rags, 
if by the deeds of the law no man can be justified, and 
if, when we have done all, we are yet unprofitable, then 
is it but a folly to think of heaven by the law. I far- 
ther thought thus : If a man runs a hundred pounds 
into the shopkeeper's debt, and after that shall pay for 
all that he shall fetch ; yet if his old debt stand still in 
the book uncrossed, the shopkeeper may sue him for it, 
and cast him into prison till he shall pay the debt. 

Chr. Well, and how did you apply this to yourself? 

Hope. Why, I thought thus with myself: I have by 
my sins run a great way into God's book, and my now 
reforming will not pay off that score. Therefore I 
should think still, under all my present amendments, 
but how shall I be freed from that damnation that I 
brought myself in danger of by my former trangres- 
sions ? 

Chr. A very good application : but pray go on. 

Hope. Another thing that hath troubled me ever 
since my late amendments is, that if I look narrowly 
into the best of what I do now, I still see sin, new sin, 
mixing itself with the best of that I do ; so that now I 
am forced to conclude, that notwithstanding my former 
fond conceits of myself and duties, I have committed 
sin enough in one day to send me to hell, though my 
former life had been faultless. 

Chr. And what did you then? 

Hope. Do! I could not tell what to do, until I 



174 

broke my mind to Faithful ; for he and I were well 
acqm A nd he told me, that n 

the righteousr. r.ian that never had si 

neither mine own, nor all the' righte : the 

world could save me. 

Chr. And did you think he spake tr, 

as pleased and 

td with my own amendments, I had called him 
. r his pains ; but now, since I see my own infirm- 
d which cleaves to my best perform- 
ance I have been low 

Chr. But did you think, when at first he 

ou, that there was such a man to be found, of 
whom it might aid that he n r : .itted 

I must confess the words at first 
strangely: but after a little more talk and company 
with him, I had full conviction about it. 

yon ask him what man this was, and 
how you must be justified by him? 

ind he told me it was t? 
that dwelleth on the right han d 
x., 12-21. And thus, ~>JA be, 

. what he hat:. 
a in th'; ::esh, and suffered when 

he did hang on the 

i asked him furth 

lstifjr 
: was the 
d did what he did, and i eath 

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& what did yo J C 



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?:r. T:.er. 1 s 
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Jesus 

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- . - 

all m - .'. Jer«, \\ 

- 
must my s 

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jjtogivt s 

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Id him that . 

ssusC s I so 

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that righteousness 

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176 hopeful's account of his conversion. 

Hope. No, not at first, nor second, nor third, nor 
fourth, nor fifth, no, nor at the sixth time neither. 

Chr. What did you do then? 

Hope. What? why I could not tell what to do. 

Chr. Had you no thoughts of leaving off praying? 

Hope. Yes; and a hundred times twice told. 

Chr. And what was the reason you did not? 

Hope. I believed that it was true which hath been 
told me, to wit, that without the righteousness of this 
Christ, all the world could not save me ; and therefore, 
thought I with myself, if I leave off, I die, and I can 
but die at the throne of grace. And withal this came 
into my mind, " If it tarry, wait for it ; because it will 
surely come, and will not tarry," Hab., ii., 3. So I 
continued praying until the Father showed me his 
Son. 

Chr. And how was he revealed unto you? 

Hope. I did not see him with my bodily eyes, but 
with the eyes of my understanding, Eph., i., 18, 19; 
and thus it was. One day I was very sad, and I think 
sadder than at any one time in my life : and this sad- 
ness was through a fresh sight of the greatness and 
vileness of my sins. And as I was then looking for 
nothing but hell, and the everlasting damnation of my 
soul, suddenly, as I thought, I saw the Lord Jesus 
looking down from heaven upon me, and saying, " Be- 
lieve on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be 
saved, 1 ' Acts, xvi., 31. 

But I replied, Lord, I am a great, a very great sinner: 
and he answered, " My grace is sufficient for thee," 
2 Cor., xii., 9. Then I said, " But Lord, what is believ- 
ing?" And then I saw from that saying, "He that 
cometh to me shall never hunger, and he 'that believeth 
on me shall never thirst," John, vi., 35., that believing 



hopeful's account of his conversion. 177 

and coming was all one ; and that he that came, that 
is, that ran out in his heart and affections after salva- 
tion by Christ, he indeed believed in Christ. Then the 
water stood in mine eyes, and I asked further, " But, 
Lord, may such a great sinner as I am be indeed 
accepted of thee, and be saved by thee? " And I heard 
him say, "And him that cometh to me I will in no 
wise cast out," John, vi., 37. Then I said, But how, 
Lord, must I consider of thee in my coming to thee, that 
my faith may be placed aright upon thee? Then he 
said, " Christ Jesus came into the world to save sin- 
ners, 1 ' 1 Tim., i., 15. He is the end of the law for 
righteousness to every one that believes, Rom., x., 4, 
and chap. 4. He died for our sins, and rose again for 
our justification, Rom., iv., 25. He loved us, and 
washed us from our sins in his own blood, Rev., i., 5. 
He is Mediator between God and us, 1 Tim., ii., 5. 
He ever liveth to make intercession for us, Heb., vii., 
25. From all which I gathered, that I must look for 
righteousness in his person, and for satisfaction for 
my sins by his blood : that what he did in obedience 
to his Fathers law, and in submitting to the penalty 
thereof, was not for himself, but for him that will accept 
it for his salvation, and be thankful. And now was my 
heart full of joy, mine eyes full of tears, and mine affec- 
tions running over with love to the name, people, and 
ways of Jesus Christ. 

Chr. This was a revelation of Christ to your soul 
indeed. But tell me particularly what effect this had 
upon your spirits. 

Hope. It made me see that all the world, notwith- 
standing all the righteousness thereof, is in a state of 
condemnation. It made me see that God the Father, 
though he be just, can justly justify the coming sinner. 



178 IGNORANCE COMES UP AGAIN. 

It made me greatly ashamed of the vileness of my former 
life, and confounded me with the sense of mine own 
ignorance, for there never came thought into my heart 
before now that showed me so the beauty of Jesus 
Christ. It made me love a holy life, and long to do 
something for the honor and glory of the name of the 
Lord Jesus. Yea, I thought that had I now a thousand 
gallons of blood in my body, I could spill it all for the 
sake of the Lord Jesus. 

I saw then in my dream, that Hopeful looked back 
and saw Ignorance, whom they had left behind, coming 
after. Look, said he to Christian, how far yonder 
youngster loitereth behind. 

Chr. Ay, ay, I see him ; he careth not for our com- 
pany. 

Hope. But I trow it would not have hurt him had he 
kept pace with us hitherto. 

Chr. That is true ; but I warrant you he thinketh 
otherwise. 

Hope. That I think he doth ; but, however, let us 
tarry for him. So they did. 

Then Christian said to him, Come away, man; why 
did you stay so behind ? 

Ignor. I take my pleasure in walking alone, even 
more a great deal than in company, unless I like it the 
better. 

Then said Christian to Hopeful (but softly), Did I 
not tell you he cared not for our company? But, how- 
ever, come up, and let us talk away the time in this 
solitary place. Then, directing his speech to Ignor- 
ance, he said, Come, how do you do? How stands it 
between God and your soul now? 

Ignor. I hope well ; for I am always full of good 
motions that come into my mind to comfort me as I 
walk. 



DISCOURSE OF CHRISTIAN AND IGNORANCE. 1 79 

Chr. What good motions? pray tell us. 

Ignor. Why, I think of God and heaven. 

Chr. So do the devils and damned souls. 

Ignor. But I think of them, and desire them. 

Chr. So do many that are never like to come there. 

" The soul of the sluggard desires, and hath noth- 
ing," Prov., xiii., 4. 

Ignor. But I think of them, and leave all for 
them. 

Chr. That I doubt ; for to leave all is a very hard 
matter ; yea, a harder matter than many are aware of. 
But why, or by what, art thou persuaded that thou hast 
left all for God and heaven ? 

Ignor. My heart tells me so. 

Chr. The wise man says, "He that trusts in his 
own heart is a fool," Prov., xxviii., 26. 

Ignor. That is spoken of an evil heart ; but mine 
is a good one. 

Chr. But how dost thou prove that? 

Ignor. It comforts me in hopes of heaven. 

Chr. That may be through its deceitfulness ; for a 
man's heart may minister comfort to him in the hopes 
of that thing for which he has yet no ground to hope. 

Ignor. But my heart and life agree together ; and 
therefore my hope is well grounded. 

Chr. Who told thee that thy heart and life agree 
together? 

Ignor. My heart tells me so. 

Chr. "Ask my fellow if I be a thief." Thy heart 
tells thee so ! Except the word of God beareth witness 
in this matter, other testimony is of no value. 

Ignor. But is it not a good heart that hath good 
thoughts ? and is not that a good life that is according 
to God's commandments? 



l80 DISCOURSE OF CHRISTIAN AND IGNORANCE. 

Chr. Yes, that is a good heart that hath good 
thoughts, and that is a good life that is according to 
God's commandments ; but it is one thing indeed to 
have these, and another thing only to think so. 

Ignor. Pray, what count you good thoughts, and a 
life according to God's commandments? 

Chr. There are good thoughts of divers kinds : 
some respecting ourselves, some God, some Christ, and 
some other things. 

Ignor. What be good thoughts respecting our- 
selves? 

Chr. Such as agree with the word of God. 

Ignor. When do our thoughts of ourselves agree 
with the word of God? 

Chr. When we pass the same judgment upon our- 
selves which the word passes. To explain myself : the 
word of God saith of persons in a natural condition, 
"There is none righteous, there is none that doeth 
good." It saith also, that " every imagination of the 
heart of man is only evil, and that continually," Gen., 
vi., 5; Rom., iii. And again, "The imagination of 
man's heart is evil from his youth," Gen., viii., 21. 
Now, then, when we think thus of ourselves, having 
sense thereof, then are our thoughts good ones, because 
according to the word of God. 

Ignor. I will never believe that my heart is thus 
bad. 

Chr. Therefore thou never hadst one good thought 
concerning thyself in thy life. But let me go on. As 
the Word passeth a judgment upon our hearts, so it 
passeth a judgment upon our ways ; and when the 
thoughts of our hearts and ways agree with the judg- 
ment which the Word giveth of both, then are both 
good, because agreeing thereto. 



DISCOURSE OF CHRISTIAN AND IGNORANCE. l8l 

Ignor. Make out your meaning. 

Chr. Why, the word of God saith, that man's ways 
are crooked ways, not good, but perverse : it saith, 
they are naturally out of the good way, that they have 
not known it, Ps. cxxv., 5; Prov., ii., 15; Rom., iii., 
r2. Now when a man thus thinketh of his ways, I say 
when he doth sensibly, and with heart-humiliation, 
thus think, then hath he good thoughts of his own 
ways, because his thoughts now agree with the judg- 
ment of the word of God. 

Ignor. What are good thoughts concerning God? 

Chr. Even, as I have said concerning ourselves, 
when our thoughts of God do agree with what the 
Word saith of him ; and that is, when we think of his 
being and attributes as the Word hath taught ; of which 
1 cannot now discourse at large. But to speak of him 
with reference to us : then have we right thoughts of 
God when we think that he knows us better than we 
know ourselves, and can see sin in us when and where we 
can see none in ourselves : when we think he knows our 
inmost thoughts, and that our heart, with all its depths, 
is always open unto his eyes ; also when we think that all 
our righteousness stinks in his nostrils, and that there- 
fore he cannot abide to see us stand before him in any 
confidence, even of all our best performances. 

Ignor. Do you think that I am such a fool as to 
think that God can see no further than I ; or that I 
would come up to God in the best of my perform- 
ances? 

Chr. Why, how dost thou think in this matter? 

Ignor. Why, to be short, I think I must believe in 
Christ for justification. 

Chr. How ! think thou must believe in Christ, when 
thou seest not thy need of him ! Thou neither seest 



1 82 DISCOURSE OF CHRISTIAN AND IGNORANCE. 

thy original nor actual infirmities ; but hast such an 
opinion of thyself, and of what thou doest, as plainly 
renders thee to be one that did never see a necessity of 
Christ's personal righteousness to justify thee before 
God. How, then, dost thou say, I believe in Christ? 

Ignor. I believe well enough for all that. 

Chr. How dost thou believe? 

Ignor. I believe that Christ died for sinners ; and 
that I shall be justified before God from the curse, 
through his gracious acceptance of my obedience to his 
law. Or thus, Christ makes my duties, that are reli- 
gious, acceptable to his Father by virtue of his merits, 
and so shall I be justified. 

Chr. Let me give an answer to this confession of 
thy faith : 

i . Thou believest with a fantastical faith ; for this 
faith is nowhere described in the Word. 

2. Thou believest with a false faith; because it tak- 
eth justification from the personal righteousness of 
Christ, and applies it to thy own. 

3. This faith maketh not Christ a justifier of thy 
person, but of thy actions ; and of thy person for thy 
actions 1 sake, which is false. 

4. Therefore this faith is deceitful, even such as will 
leave thee under wrath in the day of God Almighty : 
for true justifying faith puts the soul, as sensible of its 
lost condition by the law, upon flying for refuge unto 
Christ's righteousness ( which righteousness of his is 
not an act of grace by which he maketh, for justification, 
thy obedience accepted with God, but his personal obe- 
dience to the law, in doing and suffering for us what 
that required at our hands) ; this righteousness, I say, 
true faith accepteth ; under the skirt of which the soul 
being shrouded, and by it presented as spotless before 



THE FOLLY OF IGNORANCE. 1 83 

God, it is accepted, and acquitted from condemna- 
tion. 

Ignor. What ! would you have us trust to what 
Christ in his own person has done without us ? This 
conceit would loosen the reins of our lust, and tolerate 
us to live as we list : for what matter how we live, if we 
may be justified by Christ's personal righteousness from 
all, when we believe it? 

Chr. Ignorance is thy name, and as thy name is, so 
art thou : even this thy answer demonstrateth what I 
say. Ignorant thou art of what justifying righteousness 
is, and as ignorant how to secure thy soul through the 
faith of it, from the heavy wrath of God. Yea, thou 
also art ignorant of the true effects of saving faith in 
this righteousness of Christ, which is to bow and win 
.over the heart to God in Christ, to love his name, his 
word, ways, and people, and not as thou ignorantly 
imaginest. 

Hope. Ask him if ever he had Christ revealed to him 
from heaven. 

Ignor. What ! you are a man for revelations ! I be- 
lieve that what both you and all the rest of you say 
about that matter, is but the fruits of distracted brains. 

Hope. Why, man ! Christ is so hid in God from the 
natural apprehensions of all flesh, that he cannot by any 
man be savingly known, unless God the Father reveals 
him to him. 

Ignor. That is your faith, but not mine ; yet mine, 
I doubt not, is as good as yours, though I have not in 
my head so many whimsies as you. 

Chr. Give me leave to put in a word. You ought 
not so slightly to speak of this matter : for this I will 
boldly affirm ( even as my good companion hath done ), 
that no man can know Jesus Christ but by the revela- 



1 84 IGNORANCE STAYS BEHIND THE PILGRIMS. 

tion of the Father: yea, and faith too, by which the 
soul layeth hold upon Christ ( if it be right ) must be 
wrought by the exceeding greatness of His mighty power, 
Matt., xi., 27; 1 Cor., xii., 3; Eph., 1., 17-19; the 
working of which faith, i perceive, poor Ignorance, thou 
art ignorant of. Be awakened then, see thine own 
wretchedness, and fly to the Lord Jesus ; and by his 
righteousness, which is the righteousness of God (for 
he himself is God ) , thou shalt be delivered from con- 
demnation. 

Ignor. You go so fast, I cannot keep pace with you ; 
do you go on before : I must stay awhile behind. 

Then they said — 

Well, Ignorance, wilt thou yet foolish be, 
To slight good counsel, ten times given thee? 
And if thou yet refuse it, thou shalt know 
Ere long the evil of thy doing so. 
Remember, man, in time ; stop, do not fear ; 
Good counsel, taken well, saves ; therefore hear. 
But if thou yet shalt slight it, thou wilt be 
The loser, Ignorance, I'll warrant thee. 

Then Christian addressed himself thus to his fellow : 

Well, come, my good Hopeful, I perceive that thou 
and I must walk by ourselves again. 

So I saw in my dream that they went on apace before, 
and Ignorance he came hobbling after. Then said 
Christian to his companion, I much pity this poor man : 
it will certainly go ill with him at last. 

Hope. Alas ! there are abundance in our town in his 
condition, whole families, yea, whole streets, and that 
of pilgrims too ; and if there be so many in our parts, 
how many think you must there be in the place where 
he was born? 



TALK OF CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL. 1 85 

Chr. Indeed, the word saith, " He hath blinded their 
eyes, lest they should see," etc. 

But, now we are by ourselves, what do you think of 
such men? have they at no time, think you, convictions 
of sin, and so, consequently, fears that their state is 
dangerous? 

Hope. Nay, do you answer that question for your- 
self, for you are the elder man. 

Chr. Then I say, sometimes (as I think) they may ; 
but they being naturally ignorant, understand not that 
such convictions tend to their good ; and therefore they 
do desperately seek to stifle them, and presumptuously 
continue to flatter themselves in the way of their own 
hearts. 

Hope. I do believe, as you say, that fear tends much 
to men's good, and to make them right at their begin- 
ning to go on pilgrimage. 

Chr. Without all doubt it doth, if it be right : for 
so says the word, " The fear of the Lord is the begin- 
ning of wisdom," Job, xxviii., 28 ; Ps., cxi., 10 ; Prov., 
i., 7; ix., 10. 

Hope. How will you describe right fear? 

Chr. True or right fear is discovered by three 
things : 

1. By its rise : it is caused by saving convictions for 
sin. 

2. It drive th the soul to lay fast hold of Christ for 
salvation. 

3. It begetteth and continueth in the soul a great 
reverence of God, his word, and ways ; keeping it ten- 
der, and making it afraid to turn from them, to the 
right hand or to the left, to any thing that may dis- 
honor God, break its peace, grieve the Spirit, or cause 
the enemy to speak reproachfully. 



1 86 TALK OF ONE TEMPORARY. 

Hope. Well said ; I believe you have said the truth. 
Are we now almost got past the Enchanted Ground? 

Chr. Why? are you weary of this discourse? 

Hope. No, verily, but that I would know where we 
are. 

Chr. We have not now above two miles farther to 
go thereon. But let us return to our matter. 

Now the ignorant know not that such convictions 
as tend to put them in fear, are for their good, and there- 
fore they seek to stifle them. 

Hope. How do they seek to stifle them? 

Chr. i. They think that those fears are wrought by 
the devil (though indeed they are wrought of God), 
and, thinking so, they resist them, as things that 
directly tend to their overthrow. 2. They also think 
that these fears tend to the spoiling of their faith 
(when, alas for them, poor men that they are, they 
have none at all) ; and therefore they harden their 
hearts against them. 3. They presume they ought 
not to fear, and therefore, in despite of them wax pre- 
sumptuously confident. 4. They see that those fears 
tend to take away from them their pitiful old self-holi- 
ness and therefore they resist them with all their 
might. 

Hope. I know something of this myself; for before 
I knew myself it was so with me. 

Chr. Well, we will leave, at this time, our neighbor 
Ignorance by himself, and fall upon another profitable 
question. 

Hope. With all my heart ; but you shall still 
begin. 

Chr. Well, then, did you know, about ten years 
ago, one Temporary in your parts, who was a forward 
man in religion then? 



TALK OF ONE TEMPORARY. 1 87 

Hope. Know him ! yes ; he dwelt in Graceless, a 
town about two miles off of Honesty, and he dwelt 
next door to one Turnback. 

Chr. Right ; he dwelt under the same roof with 
him. Well, that man was much awakened once: I be- 
lieve that then he had some sight of his sins, and of 
the wages that were due thereto. 

Hope. I am of your mind, for (my house not being 
above three miles from him) he would ofttimes come 
to me, and that with many tears. Truly I pitied the 
man, and was not altogether without hope of him, but 
one may see, it is not every one that cries, "Lord, 
Lord!" 

Chr. He told me once that he was resolved to go on 
pilgrimage, as we go now ; but all on a sudden he grew 
acquainted with one Save-self, and then he became a 
stranger to me. 

Hope. Now, since we are talking about him, let us 
a little inquire into the reason of the sudden backslid- 
ing of him and such others. 

Chr. It may be very profitable ; but do you begin. 

Hope. Well, then, there are, in my judgment, four 
reasons for it : 

1 . Though the consciences of such men are awakened, 
yet their minds are not changed : therefore, when the 
power of guilt weareth away, that which provoked 
them to be religious ceaseth ; wherefore they naturally 
turn to their old course again ; even as we see the dog 
that is sick of what he hath eaten, so long as his sick- 
ness prevails, he vomits and casts up all ; not that he 
doth this of a free mind (if we may say a dog has a 
mind), but because it troubleth his stomach : but now, 
when his sickness is over, and so his stomach eased, 
his desires being not at all alienated from his vomit, he 



1 88 TALK OF ONE TEMPORARY. 

turns him about, and licks up all ; and so it is true 
which is written, " The dog is turned to his own vomit 
again," 2 Pet., ii., 22. Thus, I say, being hot for 
heaven, by virtue only of the sense and fear of the tor- 
ments of hell, as their sense of hell and fear of damna- 
tion chills and cools, so their desire for heaven and 
salvation cools also. So then it comes to pass, that 
when their guilt and fear are gone, their desires for 
heaven and happiness die, and they return to their 
course again. 

2. Another reason is, they have slavish fears that do 
overmaster them : I speak now of the fears that they 
have of men : " For the fear of man bringeth a snare," 
Prov., xxix., 25. So then, though they seem to be 
hot for heaven so long as the flames of hell are about 
their ears, yet, when that terror is a little over, they be- 
take themselves to second thoughts, namely, that it is 
good to be wise, and not to run (for they know not 
what) the hazard of losing all, or at least of bringing 
themselves into unavoidable and unnecessary troubles ; 
and so they fall in with the world again. 

3. The shame that attends religion lies also as a 
block in their way ; they are proud and haughty, and 
religion in their eye is low and contemptible : therefore 
when they have lost their sense of hell and the wrath 
to come, they return again to their former course. 

4. Guilt, and to meditate terror, are grievous to 
them, they like not to see their misery before they come 
into it ; though perhaps the sight of it first, if they 
loved that sight, might make them fly whither the 
righteous fly, and are safe ; but because they do, as I 
hinted before, even shun the thoughts of guilt and ter- 
ror, therefore, when once they are rid of their awaken- 
ings about the terrors and wrath of God, they harden 



TALK OF ONE TEMPORARY. 1 89 

their hearts gladly, and choose such ways as will harden 
them more and more. 

Chr. You are pretty near the business, for the bot- 
tom of all is for want of a change in their mind and 
will. And therefore they are but like the felon that 
stantleth before the judge : he quakes and trembles, 
and seems to repent most heartily, but the bottom of 
all is the fear of the halter ; not that he hath any de- 
testation of the offence, as is evident ; because, let but 
this man have his liberty, and he will be a thief, and so 
a rogue still ; whereas, if his mind was changed, he 
would be otherwise. 

Hope. Now I have showed you the reason of their 
going back, do you show me the manner thereof. 

Chr. So I will willingly : 

1. They draw off their thoughts, all that they may, 
from the remembrance of God, death, and judgment 
to come. 

2. Then they cast off by degrees private duties, as 
closet prayer, curbing their lusts, watching, sorrow for 
sin, and the like. 

3. Then they shun the company of lively and warm 
Christians. 

4. After that, they grow cold to public duty, as 
hearing, reading, godly conference, and the like. 

5. They then begin to pick holes, as we say, in the 
coats of some of the godly, and that devilishly, that 
they may have a seeming color to throw religion (for 
the sake of some infirmities they have espied in them) 
behind their backs. 

6. Then they begin to adhere to, and to associate 
themselves with, carnal, loose and wanton men. 

7. They then give way to carnal and wanton dis- 
courses in secret ; and glad are they if they can see 



I90 THE PILGRIMS ARRIVE AT BEULAH. 

such things in any that are counted honest, that they 
may the more boldly do it through their example. 

8. After this they begin to play with little sins 
openly. 

9. And then, being hardened, they show themselves 
as they are. Thus, being launched again into the gulf 
of misery, unless a miracle of grace prevent it, they 
everlastingly perish in their own deceivings. 

Now I saw in my dream, that by this time the pil- 
grims were got over the Enchanted Ground, and 
entering into the country of Beulah, Isa., lxii., 4-12; 
Cant., ii., 10-12; whose air was very sweet and 
pleasant ; the way lying directly through it, they 
solaced themselves there for a season. Yea, here they 
heard continually the singing of birds, and saw every 
day the flowers appear in the earth, and heard the voice 
of the turtle in the land. In this country the sun 
shineth night and day : wherefore this was beyond the 
Valley of the Shadow of Death, and also out of the 
reach of Giant Despair, neither could they from this 
place so much as see Doubting-Castle. Here they were 
within sight of the City they were going to : also here 
met them some of the inhabitants thereof; for in this 
land the Shining Ones commonly walked, because it was 
upon the borders of heaven. In this land also the con- 
tract between the Bride and the Bridegroom was 
renewed ; yea, hear, " as the bridegroom rejoiceth over 
the bride, so doth their God rejoice over them." Here 
they had no want of corn and wine ; for in this place 
they met with abundance of what they had sought for 
in all their pilgrimages. Here they heard voices from 
out of the City, loud voices, saying, " Say ye to the 
daughter of Zion, Behold, thy salvation cometh ! Be- 
hold, His reward is with him ! " Here all the inhabit- 



THE FEELINGS IN BEULAH. I9I 

ants of the country called them " the holy people, the 
redeemed of the Lord, sought out," etc. 

Now, as they walked in this land, they had more re- 
joicing than in parts more remote from the kingdom to 
which they were bound ; and drawing near to the City, 
they had yet a more perfect view thereof. It was builded 
of pearls and precious stones, also the streets thereof 
were paved with gold ; so that, by reason of the natural 
glory of the City, and the reflection of the sunbeams 
upon it, Christian with desire fell sick ; Hopeful also 
had a fit or two of the same disease : wherefore here 
they lay by it awhile, crying out because of their pangs, 
" If you see my Beloved, tell him that I am sick of love." 

But, being a little strengthened, and better able to 
bear their sickness, they walked on their way, and came 
yet nearer and nearer, where were orchards, vineyards, 
and gardens, and their gates opened into the highway. 
Now, as they came up to these places, behold the gar- 
dener stood in the way ; to whom the pilgrims said, 
Whose goodly vineyards and gardens are these? He 
answered, They are the King's, and are planted here for 
his own delights, and also for the solace of pilgrims. 
So the gardener had them into the vineyards, and bid 
them refresh themselves with the dainties, Deut., xxiii., 
24 ; he also showed them there the King's walks and 
the arbors where he delighteth to be : and here they 
tarried and slept. 

Now I beheld in my dream that they talked more in 
their sleep at this time than ever they did in all their 
journey ; and, being in a muse thereabout, the gardener 
said even to me, Wherefore musest thou at the matter ; 
it is the nature of the fruit of the grapes of these vine- 
yards "to go down so sweetly as to cause the lips of 
them that are asleep to speak," Cant., vii., 9. 



I92 THE PILGRIMS REACH THE RIVER. 

So I saw that when they awoke they addressed them- 
selves to go up to the City. But, as I said, the reflec- 
tion of the sun upon the City ( for the City was pure 
gold, Rev., xxi., 18) was so extremely glorious that 
they could not as yet with open face behold it, but 
through an instrument made for that purpose, 2 Cor., 
iii., 18. So I saw, that as they went on, there met them 
two men in raiment that shone like gold, also their 
faces shone as the light. 

These men asked the pilgrims whence they came ; 
and they told them. They also asked them where they 
had lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what comforts 
and pleasures, they had met in the way ; and they told 
them. Then said the men that met them, You have but 
two difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in 
the City. 

Christian then and his companion asked the men to 
go along with them : so they told them that they would. 
But, said they, you must obtain it by your own faith. 
So I saw in my dream that they went on together till 
they came in sight of the gate. 

Now I further saw, that betwixt them and the gate 
was a river ; but there was no bridge to go over ; and 
the river was very deep. At the sight therefore of this 
river the pilgrims were much stunned ; but the men that 
went with them said, You must go through or you can- 
not come at the gate. 

The pilgrims then began to inquire if there was no 
other way to the gate. To which they answered, Yes ; 
but there hath not any, save two, to wit, Enoch and 
Elijah, been permitted to tread that path since the 
foundation of the world, nor shall until the last trumpet 
shall sound. The pilgrims then, especially Christian, 
began to despond in their minds, and looked this way and 



christian's distress in the river. 193 

that, but no way could be found by them by which they 
might escape the river. Then they asked the men if 
the waters were all of a depth. They said, No; yet 
they could not help them in that case ; For, said they, 
you shall find it deeper or shallower as you believe in 
the King of the place. 

They then addressed themselves to the water, and 
entering, Christian began to sink, and, crying out to his 
good friend Hopeful, he said, I sink in deep waters ; the 
billows go over my head, all his waves go over me. Selah. 

Then said the other, Be of good cheer, my brother : 
I feel the bottom, and it is good. Then said Christian, 
Ah ! my friend, the sorrows of death have compassed 
me about, I shall not see the land that flows with milk 
and honey. And with that a great darkness and horror 
fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him- 
Also here he in a great measure lost his senses, so that 
he could neither remember nor orderly talk of any of 
those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the 
way of his pilgrimage. But all the words that he spoke 
still tended to discover that he had horror of mind, and 
heart-fears that he should die in that river and never 
obtain entrance in at the gate. Here, also, as they that 
stood by perceived, he was much in the troublesome 
thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both since 
and before he began to be a pilgrim. It was also ob- 
served, that he was troubled with apparitions of hob- 
goblins and evil spirits ; for ever and anon he would 
intimate so much by words. 

Hopeful, therefore, here, had much ado to keep his 
brother's head above water ; yea, sometimes he would 
be quite gone down, and then, ere awhile, he would rise 
up again half dead. Hopeful also would endeavor to 
comfort him, saying, Brother, I see the gate, and men 



194 THEY GET OVER THE RIVER. 

standing by to receive us ; but Christian would answer, 
It is you, it is you they wait for ; you have been hope- 
ful ever since I knew you. And so have you, said he to 
Christian. Ah, brother, said Christian, surely if I was 
right he would now arise to help me ; but for my sins 
he hath brought me into the snare, and hath left me. 
Then said Hopeful, My brother, you have quite forgot 
the text where it is said of the wicked, " There are no 
bands in their death, but their strength is firm ; they 
are not troubled as other men, neither are they plagued 
like other men, 1 ' Ps. lxxiii., 4, 5. These troubles and 
distresses that you go through in these waters, are no 
sign that God hath forsaken you ; but are sent to try 
you, whether you will call to mind that which heretofore 
you have received of his goodness, and live upon him 
in your distresses. 

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian was in a muse 
awhile. To whom also Hopeful added these words, Be 
of good cheer, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole. And 
with that Christian brake out with a loud voice, Oh, I 
see him again ; and he tells me "When thou passest 
through the waters, I will be with thee ; and through 
the rivers, they shall not overflow thee," Isa., xiiii., 
2. Then they both took courage, and the enemy was 
after that as still as a stone, until they were gone over. 
Christian, therefore, presently found ground to stand 
upon, and so it followed that the rest of the river was 
but shallow. Thus they got over. 

Now upon the bank of the river, on the other side, 
they saw, the two shining men again, who there waited 
for them. Wherefore being come out of the river, they 
saluted them, saying, We are ministering spirits, sent 
forth to minister for those that shall be heirs of salva- 
tion. Thus they went along toward the gate. 



THE OTHER SIDE OF THE RIVER. I95 

Now you must note, that the City stood upon a 
mighty hill ; but the pilgrims went up that hill with 
ease, because they had these two men to lead them up 
by the arms : they had likewise left their mortal gar- 
ments behind them in the river ; for though they went 
in with them, they came out without them. They 
therefore went up here with much agility and speed, 
though the foundation upon which the City was framed 
was higher than the clouds; they therefore went up 
through the regions of the air, sweetly talking as they 
went, being comforted because they safely got over the 
river, and had such glorious companions to attend 
them. 

The talk that they had with the Shining Ones was 
about the glory of the place ; who told them that the 
beauty and glory of it was inexpressible. There, said 
they, is " the Mount Sion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the 
innumerable company of angels, and the spirits of 
just men made perfect," Heb., xii., 22-24. You are 
going now, said they, to the paradise of God, wherein 
you shall see the tree of life, and eat of the never-fad- 
ing fruits thereof: and when you come there you shall 
have white robes given you, and your walk and talk 
shall be every day with the King, even all the days of 
eternity, Rev., ii., 7 ; hi., 4, 5; xxii., 5. There you 
shall not see again such things as you saw when you 
were in the lower region upon the earth ; to wit, sor- 
row, sickness, affliction, and death ; " For the former 
things are passed away," Rev., xxi., 4. You are going 
now to Abraham, to Isaac, and Jacob, and to the 
prophets, men that God hath taken away from the evil 
to come and that are now " resting upon their beds, 
each one walking in his righteousness." The men then 
asked, What must we do in the holy place? To whom 



I96 THE HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN DESCRIBED. 

it was answered, You must there receive the comfort 
of all your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow ; you 
must reap what you have sown, even the fruit of all 
your prayers, and tears, and sufferings for the King by 
the way, Gal., vi., 7, 8. In that place you must wear 
crowns of gold, and enjoy the perpetual sight and 
vision of the Holy One ; for " there you shall see him 
as he is, 11 1 John, iii., 2. There also you shall serve 
Him continually with praise, with shouting and thanks- 
giving, whom you desired to serve in the world, though 
with much difficulty, because of the infirmity of your 
flesh. There your eyes shall be delighted with seeing, 
and your ears with hearing the pleasant voice of the 
Mighty One. There you shall enjoy your friends 
again that are gone thither before you ; and there you 
shall with joy receive even every one that follows into 
the holy place after you. There also you shall be 
clothed with glory and majesty, and put in an equipage 
fit to ride out with the King of Glory. When he shall 
come with sound of trumpet in the clouds, as upon 
the wings of the wind, you shall come with him ; and 
when he shall sit upon the throne of judgment, you shall 
sit by him ; yea, and when he shall pass sentence upon 
all the workers of iniquity, let them be angels or men, 
you also shall have a voice in that judgment, because they 
were his and your enemies. Also, when he shall again 
return to the City, you shall go too with sound of trum- 
pet, and be ever with him, 1 Thess., iv., 13-17; Jude, 
14, 15; Dan., vii., 9, 10; 1 Cor., vi., 2, 3. 

Now while they were thus drawing toward the gate, 
behold a company of the heavenly host came out to 
meet them ; to whom it was said by the other two 
Shining Ones, These are the men that have loved our 
Lord, when they were in the world, and that have left 



THE WELCOME OF ANGELS. 1 97 

all for his holy name ; and he hath sent us to fetch 
them, and we have brought them thus far on their de- 
sired journey, that they may go in and look their Re- 
deemer in the face with joy. Then the heavenly host 
gave a great shout, saying, " Blessed are they that are 
called to the marriage-supper of the Lamb, 1 ' Rev., xix., 
9. There came out also at this time to meet them sev- 
eral of the King's trumpeters, clothed in white and 
shining raiment, who, with melodious voices and loud, 
made even the heavens to echo with their sound. 
These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with 
ten thousand welcomes from the world ; and this they 
did with shouting and sound of trumpet. 

This done, they compassed them round on every 
side ; some went before, some behind, and some on 
the right hand, and some on the left (as it were to 
guard them through the upper regions), continually 
sounding as they went, with melodious noise, in notes 
on high : so that the very sight was to them that could 
behold it as if heaven itself was come down to meet 
them. Thus, therefore, they walked on together; and, 
as they walked, ever and anon these trumpeters, even 
with joyful sound, would, by mixing their music with 
looks and gestures, still signify to Christian and his 
brother how welcome they were into their company, 
and with what gladness they came to meet them. And 
now were these two men, as it were, in heaven, before 
they came at it, being swallowed up with the sight of 
angels, and with hearing of their melodious notes. 
Here, also, they had the City itself in view ; and thought 
they heard all the bells therein to ring, to welcome 
them thereto. But, above all, the warm and joyful 
thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there 
with such company, and that for ever and ever, oh, by 



I98 THE GATE OF THE CELESTIAL CITY. 

what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be expressed ! 
— Thus they came up to the gate. 

Now when they were come up to the gate, there was 
written over it in letters of gold, " Blessed are they 

THAT DO HIS COMMANDMENTS, THAT THEY MAY HAVE 
RIGHT TO THE TREE OF LIFE, AND MAY ENTER IN 
THROUGH THE GATES INTO THE CITY, 11 Rev., xxii., 1 4. 

Then I saw in my dream that the shining men bid 
them call at the gate : the which when they did, some 
from above looked over the gate, to wit, Enoch, 
Moses, Elijah, etc., to whom it was said, These pilgrims 
are come from the City of Destruction, for the love 
that they bear to the King of this place : and then the 
pilgrims gave in unto them, each man his certificate, 
which they had received in the beginning; those there- 
fore were carried in to the King, who, when he had 
read them, said, Where are the men ? To whom it was 
answered, They are standing without the gate. The 
King then commanded to open the gate, "That the 
righteous nation (said he) that keepeth truth may 
enter in, 11 Isa., xxvi., 2. 

Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in 
at the gate ; and lo ! as they entered, they were trans- 
figured ; and they had raiment put on that shone like 
gold. There were also that met them with harps and 
crowns, and gave them to them ; the harps to praise 
withal, and the crowns in token of honor. Then I 
heard in my dream that all the bells in the City rang 
again for joy, and that it was said unto them, " Enter 
ye into the joy of our Lord, 11 Matt., xxv., 23. I also 
heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud 
voice, saying, "Blessing, and honor, and glory, and 
power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and 
unto the Lamb, for ever and ever, 11 Rev., v., 13. 



THE PILGRIMS ENTER THE CELESTIAL CITY. I99 

Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, 
I looked in after them, and behold the City shone like 
the sun ; the streets also were paved with gold ; and 
in them walked many men, with crowns on their heads, 
palms in their hands, and golden harps, to sing praises 
withal. 

They were also of them that had wings, and they 
answered one another without intermission, saying, 
Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord. And after that they 
shut up the gates : which, when I had seen, I wished 
myself among them. 

Now while I was gazing upon all these things, I 
turned my head to look back, and saw Ignorance come 
up to the river side ; but he soon got over, and that 
without half the difficulty which the other two men 
met with. For it happened that there was then in the 
place one Vain-Hope, a ferryman, that with his boat 
helped him over ; so he, as the others I saw, did ascend 
the hill, to come up to the gate ; only he came alone ; 
neither did any meet him with the least encourage- 
ment. When he was come up to the gate, he looked 
up to the writing that was above, and then began to 
knock, supposing that entrance should have been 
quickly administered to him ; but he was asked by the 
men that looked over the top of the gate, Whence 
came you? and what would you have? He answered, 
I have ate and drank in the presence of the King, and 
he has taught in our streets. Then they asked him for 
his certificate, that they might go in and show it to 
the King: so he fumbled in his bosom for one, and 
found none. Then said they, Have you none? but the 
man answered never a word. So they told the King, 
but he would not come down to see him, but com- 
manded the two Shining Ones, that conducted Chris- 



200 THE DREADFUL END OF IGNORANCE. 

tian and Hopeful to the City, to go out, and take 
Ignorance, and bind him, hand and foot, and have him 
away. Then they took him up, and carried him 
through the air, to the door that I saw in the side of 
the hill, and put him in there. Then I saw that there 
was a hell, even from the gate of heaven, as well as 
from the City of Destruction, so I awoke, and behold 
it was a dream. 



CONCLUSION. 

Now, reader, I have told my dream to thee, 

See if thou canst interpret it to me, 

Or to thyself, or neighbor ; but take heed 

Of misinterpreting, for that, instead 

Of doing good, will but thyself abuse : 

By misinterpreting, evil ensues. 

Take heed also that thou be not extreme 

In playing with the outside of my dream ; 

Nor let my figure or similitude 

Put thee into a laughter, or a feud ; 

Leave this for boys and fools ; but as for thee 

Do thou the substance of my matter see. 

Put by the curtains, look within my vail, 

Turn up my metaphors, and do not fail ; 

There, if thou seest them, such things thou'lt find 

As will be helpful to an honest mind. 

What of my dross thou findest there, be bold 

To throw away, but yet preserve the gold. 

What if my gold be wrapped up in ore ? 

None throws away the apple for the core. 

But if thou shalt cast all away as vain, 

I know not but 'twill make me dream again. 



PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 



FROM THIS WORLD 



TO THAT WHICH IS TO COME. 



PART II 



Delivered under the Similitude of a Dream, 



wherein is set forth the manner of the setting out of 

christian's wife and children; their dangerous 

journey, and safe arrival at the 

desired country. 

" I have used similitudes." — Hosea. xii. 10. 



THE 

AUTHOR'S WAY 

OF SENDING FORTH HIS 

Second Part of the Pilgrim, 



Go now, my little Book, to every place 

Where my first Pilgrim has but shown his face ; 

Call at their door : if any say, Who's there? 

Then answer thou, Christiana is here. 

If they bid thee come in, then enter thou, 

With all thy boys ; and then, as thou know'st how, 

Tell who they are, also from whence they came : 

Perhaps they'll know them by their looks or name : 

But if they should not, ask them yet again, 

If formerly they did not entertain 

One Christian, a Pilgrim? If they say 

They did, and were delighted in his way ; 

Then let them know, that these related were 

Unto him : yea, his wife and children are. 

Tell them that they have left their house aud home, 
Are turned Pilgrims ; seek a world to come : 
That they have met with hardships in the way : 
That they do meet with troubles night and day : 
That they have trod on serpents, fought with devils: 
Have also overcome a many evils : 
203 



204 THE AUTHOR'S ACCOUNT 

Yea, tell them also of the next who have, 

Of love to pilgrimage, been stout and brave 

Defenders of that way ; and how they still 

Refuse this world, to do their Father's will. 

Go tell them also of those dainty things 

That pilgrimage unto the Pilgrims brings. 

Let them acquainted be too, how they are 

Beloved of their King, under his care ; 

What goodly mansions he for them provides, 

Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides ; 

How brave a calm they will enjoy at last, 

Who to their Lord, and by his ways hold fast. 

Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace 
Thee as they did my firstlings, and will grace 
Thee and thy fellows with such cheer and fare 
As show well, they of Pilgrims lovers are. 

OBJECTION I. 

But how if they will not believe of me 
That 1 am truly thine? 'cause some there be 
That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name, 
Seek, by disguise, to seem the very same ; 
And by that means, have brought themselves into 
The hands and houses of 1 know not who. 

ANSWER. 

' Tis true some have of late, to counterfeit 
My Pilgrim, to their own my title set ; 
Yea, others half my name, and title too, 
Have stitched to their books to make them do. 
But yet they, by their features, do declare 
Themselves not mine to be, whose e'er they are. 

If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way 
Before them all, is to say out thy say 



OF HIS SECOND PART. 205 

In thine own native language, which no man 
Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can. 

If, after all, they still of you shall doubt, 
Thinking that you like gypsies go about 
In naughty wise the country to defile ; 
Or that you seek good people to beguile 
With things unwarrantable — send for me, 
And I will testify you pilgrims be ; 
Yea, I will testify that only you 
My pilgrims are, and that alone will do. 

OBJECTION II. 

But yet, perhaps, I may inquire for him 
Of those who wish him damned life and limb : 
What shall I do, when I at such a door 
For pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more? 

ANSWER. 

Fright not thyself, my Book, for such bugbears 
Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears. 
My Pilgrim's book has traveird sea and land, 
Yet could 1 never come to understand 
That it was slighted, or turned out of door, 
By any kingdom, were they rich or poor. 
In France and Flanders, where men kill each other 
My Pilgrim is esteem'd a friend, a brother. 

In Holland too, 'tis said, as 1 am told, 
My Pilgrim is with some worth more than gold. 
Highlanders and wild Irish can agree 
My Pilgrim should familiar with them be. 

'Tis in New England under such advance, 
Receives there so much loving countenance, 
As to be trimm'd, new clotrTd, and deck'd with gems, 
That it might show its features and its limbs. 



206 THE AUTHOR'S ACCOUNT 

Yet more : so comely doth my Pilgrim walk. 
That of him thousands daily sing and talk. 

If you draw nearer home, it will appear 
My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear. 
City and country will him entertain, 
With, Welcome, Pilgrim; yea. they can't refrain 
From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by. 
Or shows his head in any company. 

Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love, 
Esteem it much : yea. value it above 
Things of a greater bulk ; yea. with delight, 
Say, my lark's leg is better than a kite. 
Young ladies and young gentlewomen too 
Do no small kindness to my Pilgrim show. 
Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts, 
My pilgrim has, 'cause he to them imparts 
His pretty riddles in such wholesome strains 
As vield them profit double to their pains 
Of reading : yea, 1 think I may be bold 
To say, some prize him far above their gold. 
The very children that do walk the street, 
If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet, 
Salute him will, will wish him well, and say. 
He is the only stripling of the day. 

They that have never seen him, yet admire 
What they have heard of him, and much desire 
To have his company, and hear him tell 
Those pilgrim stories which he knows so well. 

Yea. some that did love him at the first. 
But caird him fool and noddy, say they must, 
Now they have seen and heard him, him commend : 
And to those whom they love, they do him send. 

Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not to be 
Afraid to show thy head ; none can hurt thee 



OF HIS SECOND PART. 207 

That wish but well to him that went before ; 
'Cause thou corrfst after with a second store 
Of things as good, as rich, as profitable, 
For young, for old, for stagg'ring and for stable. 

OBJECTION III. 

But some there be that say, He laughs too loud. 
And some do say, His head is in a cloud. 
Some say, His words and stories are so dark 
They know not how by them to find his mark 

ANSWER. 

One may (I think) say, Both his laughs and cries 
May well be guess'd at by his wafry eyes. 
Some things are of that nature as to make 
One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache. 
When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep, 
He did, at the same time, both kiss and weep. 

Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head ; 
That doth but show his wisdom's covered 
With his own mantle, and to stir the mind 
To search well after what it fain would find. 
Things that seem to be hid in words obscure, 
Do but the godly mind the more allure 
To study what those sayings should contain, 
That speak to us in such a cloudy strain. 
I also know a dark similitude 
Will on the curious fancy more intrude, 
And will stick faster in the heart and head 
Than things from similes not borrowed. 

Wherefore, my Book, let no discouragement 
Hinder thy travels : behold thou are sent 
To friends, not foes ; to friends that will give place 
To thee, thy Pilgrims, and thy words embrace. 



208 THE AUTHOR'S ACCOUNT 

Besides, what my first Pilgrim left conceal'd, 
Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast reveaPd ! 
What Christian left lock'd up, and went his way, 
Sweet Christiana opens with her key. 

OBJECTION IV. 

But some love not the method of your first : 
Romance they count it, throw't away as dust : 
If I should meet with such, what should I say? 
Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay? 

ANSWER. 

My Christiana, if with such thou meet, 
By all means, in all loving wise them greet; 
Render them not reviling for revile : 
But if they frown, I pr'ythee, on them smile : 
Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report, 
Has made them thus despise, or thus retort. 

Some love no fish, some love no cheese ; and some 
Love not their friends, nor their own house or home : 
Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl, 
More than they love a cuckoo or an owl. 
Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice, 
And seek those who to find thee will rejoice : 
By no means strive, but in most humble wise 
Present thee to them in thy Pilgrim's guise. 

Go then, my little Book, and show to all 
That entertain and bid thee welcome shall, 
What thou shalt keep close shut up from the rest : 
And wish what thou shalt show them may be blessed 
To them for good, and make them choose to be 
Pilgrims by better far than thee and me. 
Go then, I say, tell all men who thou art : 
Say, I am Christiana, and my part 
Is now, with my four sons, to tell you what 



OF HIS SECOND PART. 20O, 

It is for men to take a Pilgrim's lot. 

Go also, tell them who and what they be 
That now do go on pilgrimage with thee ; 
Say, Here's my neighbor Mercy ; she is one 
That has long time with me a pilgrim gone ; 
Come see her in her virgin face, and learn 
'Twixt idle ones and pilgrims to discern. 
Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize 
The world which is to come, in any wise. 
When little tripping maidens follow God, 
And leave old doating sinners to his rod, 
'Tis like those days wherein the young ones cry 1 d 
Hosanna ! whom the old ones did deride. 

Next tell them of old Honest, whom you found, 
With his white hairs, treading the Pilgrim's ground; 
Yea, tell them how plain-hearted this man was ; 
How after his good Lord he bare the cross. 
Perhaps with some gray head this may prevail, 
With Christ to fall in love, and sin bewail. 

Tell also them, how Master Fearing went 
On pilgrimage, and how the time he spent 
In solitariness, with fears and cries ; 
And how at last he won the joyful prize. 
He was a good man, though much down in spirit ; 
He is a good man, and doth life inherit. 

Tell them of Master Feeble-Mind also, 
Who not before, but still behind would go : 
Show them also, how he had like been slain, 
And how one Great-Heart did his life regain. 
This man was true of heart, though weak in grace ; 
One might true godliness read in his face. 

Then tell them of Master Ready-to-Halt, 
A man with crutches, but much without fault : 
Tell them how Master Feeble-Mind and he 
Did love, and in opinions, much agree; 



210 THE AUTHOR'S ACCOUNT OF HIS SECOND PART. 

And let all know, though weakness was their chance, 
Yet sometimes one could sing, the other dance. 

Forget not Master Valiant-for-the-Truth, 
That man of courage, though a very youth. 
Tell every one his spirit was so stout 
No man could ever make him face about ; 
And how Great-Heart and he could not forbear, 
But put down Doubting-Castle, slay Despair. 

Overlook not Master Despondency, 
Not Much-Afraid, his daughter, though they lie 
Under such mantles, as may make them look 
(With some) as if their God had them forsook. 
They softly went, but sure ; and at the end, 
Found that the Lord of Pilgrims was their friend. 
When thou hast told the world of all these things, 
Then turn about, my Book, and touch these strings; 
Which, if but touched, will such music make, 
They'll make a cripple dance, a giant quake. 

Those riddles that lie couch'd within thy breast 
Freely propound, expound ; and for the rest 
Of thy mysterious lines, let them remain 
For those whose nimble fancies shall them gain. 

Now may this little Book a blessing be 
To those that love this little Book and me ; 
And may its buyer have no cause to say, 
His money is but lost, or thrown away. 
Yea, may this second Pilgrim yield that fruit 
As may with each good Pilgrim's fancy suit ; 
And may it some persuade that go astray, 
To turn their feet and heart to the right way, 
Is the hearty prayer of 

The Author, 

John Bunyan. 



THE 

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 

I?i the Similitude of a Dream. 



PART II 



Courteous Companions, 

Some time since, to tell you my dream that I had of 
Christian, the Pilgrim, and of his dangerous journey 
toward the Celestial country, was pleasant to me, and 
profitable to you. I told you then also what I saw 
concerning his wife and children, and how unwilling 
they were to go with him on pilgrimage ; insomuch 
that he was forced to go on his progress without them ; 
for he durst not run the danger of that destruction 
which he feared would come by staying with them in 
the City of Destruction ; wherefore, as I then showed 
you, he left them and departed. 

Now, it hath so happened, through the multiplicity of 
business, that I have been much hindered and kept 
back from my wonted travels into those parts where 
he went, and so could not, till now, obtain an oppor- 
tunity to make further inquiry after these whom he left 
behind, that I might give you an account of them. But 
having had some concerns that way of late, I went 
down again thitherward. Now, having taken up my 
211 



212 DISCOURSE WITH MR. SAGACITY. 

lodgings in a wood about a mile oft* the place, as I 
slept, I dreamed again. 

And, as I was in my dream, behold an aged gentle- 
man came by where I lay ; and because he was to go 
some part of the way that I was travelling, methought 
I got up and went with him. So as we walked, and 
as travellers usually do, I was as if we fell into a dis- 
course ; and our talk happened to be about Christian 
and his travels ; for thus I began with the old man : 

Sir, said I, what town is that there below, that lieth 
on the left hand of our way ? 

Then said Mr. Sagacity (for that was his name), It 
is the City of Destruction, a populous place, but pos- 
sessed with a very ill-conditioned and idle sort of 
people. 

I thought that was that city, quoth I ; I went once 
myself through that town ; and therefore know that 
this report you give of it is true. 

Sag. Too true ! I wish 1 could speak truth in speak- 
ing better of them that dwell therein. 

Well, sir, quoth I, then I perceive you to be a well- 
meaning man, and so one that takes pleasure to hear 
and tell of that which is good. Pray, did you never 
hear what happened to a man some time ago of this 
town (whose name was Christian), that went on a pil- 
grimage up toward the higher regions ? 

Sag. Hear of him ! Ay, and I also heard of the 
molestations, troubles, wars, captivities, cries, groans, 
frights, and fears, that he met with and had in his 
journey. Besides, I must tell you, all our country 
rings of him : there are but few houses that have heard 
of him and his doings but have sought after and got 
the records of his pilgrimage ; yea, I think I may say, 
that his hazardous journey has got many well-wishers 



THE HAPPINESS OF CHRISTIAN. 213 

to his ways ; for, though when he was here he was 
fool in every man's mouth, yet now he is gone, he is 
highly commended of all. For 'tis said he lives bravely 
where he is : yea, many of them that are resolved 
never to run his hazards, yet have their mouths water 
at his gains. 

They may, quoth I, well think, if they think any 
thing that is true, that he liveth well where he is ; for 
he now lives at, and in the Fountain of life, and has 
what he has without labor and sorrow, for there is no 
grief mixed therewith. But, pray what talk have the 
people about him? 

Sag. Talk ! the people talk strangely about him : 
some say that he now walks in white, Rev., hi., 4; 
that he has a chain of gold about his neck ; that he 
has a crown of gold, beset with pearls, upon his head : 
others say, that the Shining Ones, who sometimes 
showed themselves to him in his journey, are become 
his companions, and that he is as familiar with them in 
the place where he is, as here one neighbor is with 
another. Besides, it is confidently affirmed concerning 
him, that the King of the place where he is, has bestowed 
upon him already, a very rich and pleasant dwelling 
at court, and that he every day eateth and drinketh, 
and walketh and talketh with him, and receiveth of the 
smiles and favors of him that is Judge of all there, 
Zech., iii., 7; Luke, xiv., 14, 15. Moreover, it is 
expected of some, that his Prince, the Lord of that 
country, will shortly come into these parts, and will 
know the reason, if they can give any, why his neigh- 
bors set so little by him, and had him so much in deris- 
ion, when they perceived that he would be a pilgrim, 
Jude, 14, 15. 

For they say that now he is so in the affections of 



214 CHRISTIANA AND HER SONS. 

his Prince, that his Sovereign is so much concerned 
with the indignities that were cast upon Christian when 
he became a pilgrim, that he will look upon all as if 
done unto himself, Luke x., 16; and no marvel, for 
it was for the love that he had to his Prince that he 
ventured as he did. 

I dare say, quoth I. I am glad on't ; I am glad for 
the poor man's sake, for that he now has rest from his 
labor, and for that he reapeth the benefit of his tears 
with joy ; and for that he has got beyond the gunshot 
of his enemies, and is out of the reach of them that 
hate him, Rev., xiv., 13; Ps., cxxvi., 5, 6. I also 
am glad for that a rumor of these things is noised 
abroad in this country ; who can tell but that it may 
work some good effect on some that are left behind? 
But, pray, sir, while it is fresh in my mind, do you 
hear any thing of his wife and children? Poor hearts! 
I wonder in my mind what they do. 

Sag. Who? Christiana and her sons? They are like 
to do as well as Christian did himself; for though they 
all played the fool at first, and would by no means be 
persuaded by either the tears or entreaties of Christian, 
yet second thoughts have wrought wonderfully with 
them : so they have packed up, and are also gone after 
him. 

Better and better, quoth I : but, what ! wife and 
children, and all? 

Sag. It is true : I can give you an account of the 
matter, for I was upon the spot at the instant, and was 
thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair. 

Then, said I, a man it seems, may report it for a 
truth. 

Sag. You need not fear to affirm it. I mean that 
they are all gone on pilgrimage, both the good woman 



Christiana's cogitations and moanings. 215 

and her four boys. And seeing we are, as I perceive, 
going some considerable way together, I will give you 
an account of the whole matter. 

This Christiana (for that was her name from the 
day that she with her children betook herself to a pil- 
grim's life), after her husband was gone over the river, 
and she could hear of him no more, began to have 
thoughts working in her mind. First, for that she had 
lost her husband, and for that the loving bond of that 
relation was utterly broken betwixt them. For you 
know, said he to me, nature can do no less but enter- 
tain the living with many a heavy cogitation, in the 
remembrance of the loss of loving relations. This, 
therefore, of her husband did cost her many a tear. 
But this was not all ; for Christiana did also begin to 
consider with herself, whether her unbecoming be- 
havior toward her husband was not one cause that she 
saw him no more, and that in such sort he was taken 
away from her. And upon this came into her mind, by 
swarms, all her unkind, unnatural, and ungodly carriage 
to her dear friend ; which also clogged her conscience, 
and did load her with guilt. She was, moreover, much 
broken with recalling to remembrance the restless 
groans, brinish tears, and self-bemoanings of her hus- 
band, and how she did harden her heart against all his 
entreaties and loving persuasions of her and her sons 
to go with him ; yea, there was not any thing that 
Christian either said to her, or did before her all the 
while that his burden did hang on his back, but it 
returned upon her like a flash of lightning, and rent 
the caul of her heart in sunder ; especially that bitter 
outcry of his, "What shall I do to be saved? 11 did 
ring in her ears most dolefully. 

Then said she to her children, Sons, we are all 



216 Christiana's discourse and dream. 

undone. I have sinned away your father, and he is 
gone : he would have had us with him, but I would 
not go myself: I also have hindered you of life. With 
that the boys fell all into tears, and cried out to go 
after their father. Oh, said Christiana, that it had 
been but our lot to go with him ! then had it fared well 
with us, beyond what it is like to do now. For, though 
I formerly foolishly imagined, concerning the troubles 
of your father, that they proceeded of a foolish fancy 
that he had, or for that he was over-run with melan- 
choly humors ; yet now it will not out of mind, but 
that they sprang from another cause ; to wit, for that 
the light of life was given him, James, i., 23-25 ; John 
viii., 12; by the help of which, as I perceive, he has 
escaped the snares of death, Prov., xiv., 27. Then they 
all wept again, and cried out, Oh ! wo worth the day! 

The next night Christiana had a dream ; and, be- 
hold, she saw as if a broad parchment was opened 
before her, in which were recorded the sum of her 
ways ; and the crimes, as she thought, looked very 
black upon her. Then she cried out aloud in her 
sleep, "Lord, have mercy upon me a sinner! 11 Luke, 
xviii., 13, and the little children heard her. 

After this she thought she saw two very ill-favored 
ones standing by her bedside, and saying, What 
shall we do with this woman? for she cries out for 
mercy, waking and sleeping ; if she be suffered to go on 
as she begins, we shall lose her as we have lost her 
husband. Wherefore we must by one way or other, 
seek to take her off from the thoughts of what shall be 
hereafter, else all the world cannot help, but she will 
become a pilgrim. 

Now she awoke in a great sweat ; also a trembling 
was upon her; but after a while she fell to sleeping 



THOUGHTS OF HER HUSBANDS HAPPINESS. 217 

again. And then she thought she saw Christian her 
husband in a place of bliss among many immortals, 
with a harp in his hand, standing and playing upon it 
before One that sat upon a throne with a rainbow about 
his head. She saw also, as if he bowed his head with 
his face to the paved work that was under his Prince's 
feet, saying, " I heartily thank my Lord and King for 
bringing me into this place. 1 ' Then shouted a company 
of them that stood round about, and harped with their 
harps : but no man living could tell what they said but 
Christian and his companions. 

Next morning, when she was up, had prayed to God, 
and talked with her children a while, one knocked hard 
at the door; to whom she spake out saying, " If thou 
comest in God's name, come in." So he said, " Amen ; " 
and opened the door, and saluted her with, " Peace be 
to this house. 1 ' The which when he had done, he 
said, " Christiana, knowest thou wherefore I am 
come? 1 ' Then she blushed and trembled; also her 
heart besran to wax warm with desires to know from 
whence he came, and what was his errand to her. So 
he said unto her, "My name is Secret; I dwell with 
those that are on high. It is talked of where I dwell 
as if thou hadst a desire to go thither: also there is a 
report that thou art aw r are of the evil thou hast formerly 
done to thy husband, in hardening of thy heart against 
his way, and in keeping of these babes in their ignor- 
ance. Christiana, the Merciful One hath sent me to 
tell thee, that he is a God ready to forgive, and that he 
taketh delight to multiply the pardon of offences. He 
also would have thee to know, that he inviteth thee 
to come into his presence, to his table, and that he 
will feed thee with the fat of his house, and with 
the heritage of Jacob thy father. 



215 THE VISIT OF SECRET TO CHRISTIANA. 

"There is Christian, thy husband that was, with 
legions more, his companions, ever beholding that face 
that doth minister life to beholders ; and they will all 
be glad when they shall hear the sound of thy feet step 
over thy Father's threshold." 

Christiana at this was greatly abashed in herself, and 
bowed her head to the ground. This visitor proceeded 
and said, " Christiana, here is also a letter for thee, 
which I have brought from thy husband's King; 1 ' so 
she took it, and opened it, but it smelt after the man- 
ner of the best perfume, Cant., i., 3. Also it was 
written in letters of gold. The contents of the letter 
were these, That the King would have her to do as did 
Christian her husband ; for that was the way to come 
to his City and to dwell in his presence with joy for- 
ever. At this the good woman was quite overcome ; 
so she cried out to her visitor, Sir, will you carry me 
and my children with you, that we also may go and 
worship the King ? 

Then said the visitor, " Christiana, the bitter is 
before the sweet. Thou must through troubles, as did 
he that went before thee, enter this Celestial City. 
Wherefore I advise thee to do as did Christian thy 
husband : go to the wicket-gate yonder, over the plain, 
for that stands at the head of the way up which thou 
must go ; and I wish thee all good speed. Also I 
advise, that thou put this letter in thy bosom that thou 
read therein to thyself, and to thy children, until you 
have got it by heart ; for it is one of the songs that 
thou must sing while thou art in this house of thy pil- 
grimage, Ps., cxiw, 54; also this thou must deliver in 
at the further gate." 

Now I saw in my dream, that this old gentleman, as 
he told me the story, did himself seem to be greatly 



CHRISTIANA INVITES HER SONS TO GO WITH HER. 219 

affected therewith. He moreover proceeded, and said : 
So Christiana called her sons together, and began thus 
to address herself unto them: "My sons, I have, as 
you may perceive, been of late under much exercise in 
my soul about the death of your father : not for that I 
doubt at all of his happiness ; for I am satisfied now 
that he is well. I have also been much affected with 
the thoughts of mine own state and yours, which I 
verily believe is by nature miserable. My carriage also 
to your father in his distress is a great load to my 
conscience ; for I hardened both mine own heart and 
yours against him, and refused to go with him on 
pilgrimage. 

The thoughts of these things would now kill me out- 
right, but that for a dream which I had last night, and 
but that for the encouragement which this stranger has 
given me this morning. Come, my children, let us 
pack up, and be gone to the gate that leads to the 
celestial country, that we may see your father, and be 
with him and his companions in peace, according to 
the laws of that land. 

Then did her children burst out into tears, for joy 
that the heart of their mother was so inclined. So 
their visitor bid them farewell ; and they began to pre- 
pare to set out for their journey. 

But while they were thus about to be gone, two of 
the women that were Christiana's neighbors, came up 
to her house, and knocked at her door. To whom she 
said as before, If you come in God's name, come in. 
At this the women were stunned ; for this kind of 
language they used not to hear, or to perceive to drop 
from the lips of Christiana. Yet they came in : but 
behold, they found the good woman preparing to be 
gone from her house. 



220 TIMOROUS AND MERCY VISIT CHRISTIANA 

So they began, and said, Neighbor, pray what is 
your meaning by this ? 

Christiana answered, and said to the eldest of them, 
whose name was Mrs. Timorous, I am preparing for a 
journey. 

This Timorous was daughter to him that met Chris- 
tian upon the Hill of Difficulty, and would have had 
him go back for fear of the lions. 

Tim. For what journey, I pray you ? 

Chr. Even to go after my good husband. And with 
that she fell a weeping. 

Tim. I hope not so, good neighbor; pray, for your 
poor children's sake, do not so unwomanly cast away 
yourself. 

Chr. Nay, my children shall go with me ; not one 
of them is willing to stay behind. 

Tim. I wonder in my very heart what or who has 
brought you into this mind ! 

Chr. O, neighbor ! knew you but as much as I do, 
I doubt not but that you would go along with me. 

Tim. Pr'ythee, what new knowledge hast thou got 
that so worketh off thy mind from thy friends, and that 
tempteth thee to go nobody knows where ? 

Then Christiana replied, I have been sorely afflicted 
since my husband's departure from me ; but spe- 
cially since he went over the river. But that which 
troubleth me most is, my churlish carriage to him when 
he was under his distress. Besides, I am now as he 
was then ; nothing will serve me but going on pil- 
grimage. I was a dreaming last night that I saw him. 
O, that my soul was with him ! He dwelleth in the 
presence of the King of the country ; he sits and eats 
with him at his table ; he is become a companion of 
immortals, and has a house now given him to dwell 



DISCOURSE OF CHRISTIANA AND TIMOROUS. 221 

fn, to which the best palace on earth, if compared, 
seems to me but as a dunghill, 2 Cor., v., 1-4. The 
Prince of the palace has also sent for me, with promises 
of entertainment if I shall come to him ; his messenger 
was here even now, and has brought me a letter, which 
invites me to come. And with that she plucked out 
her letter, and read it, and said to them, What now 
will you say to this ? 

Tim. Oh, the madness that has possessed thee and 
thy husband, to run yourselves upon such difficulties ! 
You have heard, I am sure, what your husband did 
meet with, even in a manner at the first step that he 
took on his way, as our neighbor Obstinate can yet 
testify, for he went along with him ; yea, and Pliable 
too, until they, like wise men, were afraid to go any 
further. We also heard, over and above, how he met 
with the lions, Apollyon, the Shadow of Death, and 
many other things. Nor is the danger he met with at 
Vanity Fair to be forgotten by thee. For if he, though 
a man, was so hard put to it, what canst thou, being 
but a poor woman, do ? Consider also, that these 
four sweet babes are thy children, thy flesh and thy 
bones. Wherefore, though thou shouldst be so rash 
as to cast away thyself, yet, for the sake of the fruit of 
thy body, keep thou at home. 

But Christiana said unto her, Tempt me not, my 
neighbor : I have now a price put into my hands to 
get gain, and I should be a fool of the greatest size 
if I should have no heart to strike in with the oppor- 
tunity. And for that you tell me of all these troubles 
which I am like to meet with in the way, they are so 
far from being to me a discouragement, that they show 
I am in the right. The bitter must come before the 
sweet, and that also will make the sweet the sweeter. 



222 MERCY CLEAVES TO CHRISTIANA. 

Wherefore, since you came not to my house in God's 
name, as I said, I pray you to be gone, and not to dis- 
quiet me further. 

Then Timorous reviled her, and said to her fellow, 
Come, neighbor Mercy, let us leave her in her own 
hands, since she scorns our counsel and company. 
But Mercy was at a stand; and could not so readily 
comply with her neighbor ; and that for a twofold 
reason. I. Her bowels yearned over Christiana. So 
she said within herself, If my neighbor will needs be 
gone, I will go a little way with her, and help her. 
2. Her bowels yearned over her own soul ; for what 
Christiana had said had taken some hold upon her 
mind. Wherefore she said within herself again, I will 
yet have more talk with this Christiana ; and, if I find 
truth and life in what she shall say, I myself with my 
heart shall also go with her. Wherefore Mercy began 
thus to reply to her neighbor Timorous : — 

Mer. Neighbor, I did indeed come with you to see 
Christiana this morning; and, since she is, as you see, 
taking her last farewell of her country, I think to walk 
this sunshiny morning a little with her, to help her on 
her way. But she told her not of her second reason, 
but kept it to herself. 

Tim. Well, I see you have a mind to go a fooling 
too ; but take heed in time, and be wise : while we 
are out of danger, we are out ; but when we are in, 
we are in. 

So Mrs. Timorous returned to her house, and Chris- 
tiana betook herself to her journey. But when Timo- 
rous was got home to her house she sends for some of 
her neighbors, to wit, Mrs. Bafs-Eyes, Mrs. Incon- 
siderate, Mrs. Light-Mind, and Mrs. Know-Nothing. 
So when they were come to her house, she falls to tell- 



MRS. TIMOROUS AND MRS. KNOW-NOTHING. 223 

ing of the story of Christiana, and of her intended 
journey. And thus she began her tale : 

Tim. Neighbors, having had little to do this morn- 
ing, I went to give Christiana a visit, and when I came 
at the door I knocked, as you know it is our custom : and 
she answered, If you come in God's name, come in. So 
in 1 went, thinking all was well : but, when I came in, 
1 found her preparing herself to depart the town, she, 
and also her children. So I asked her what was her 
meaning by that. And she told me, in short, that she 
was now of a mind to go on pilgrimage, as did her 
husband. She told me also of a dream that she had, 
and how the King of the country where her husband 
was had sent her an inviting letter to come thither. 

Then said Mrs. Know-Nothing, And what ! do you 
think she will go ? 

Tim. Ay, go she will, whatever comes on"t ; and 
methinks I know it by this : for that which was my 
great argument to persuade her to stay at home (to 
wit, the troubles she was like to meet with on the way,) 
is one great argument with her to put her forward on 
her journey. For she told me in so many words, The 
bitter goes before the sweet : yea, and for as much as 
it doth, it makes the sweet the sweeter. 

Mrs. Bats-Eves. Oh, this blind and foolish 
woman ! and will she not take warning by her hus- 
band's afflictions ? For my part, I see if he were here 
again he would rest himself content in a whole skin, 
and never run so many hazards for nothing. 

Mrs. Inconsiderate also replied, saying, Away with 
such fantastical fools from the town ! a good riddance, 
for my part, I say, of her ! should she stay where she 
dwells, and retain this her mind, who could live quietly 
by her ? for she will either be dumpish, or unneigh- 



224 MRS. LIGHT-MIND AND MRS. INCONSIDERATE. 

borly, or talk of such matters as no wise body can 
abide. Wherefore, for my part, I shall never be sorry 
for her departure ; let her go, and let better come in 
her room : it was never a good world since these 
whimsical fools dwelt in it. 

Then Mrs. Light-Mind added as followeth : Come 
put this kind of talk away. I was yesterday at 
Madam Wanton's, where we were as merry as the 
maids. For who do you think should be there but I 
and Mrs. Love-the-Flesh, and three or four more, 
with Mrs. Lechery, Mrs. Filth, and some others : so 
there we had music and dancing and what else was 
meet to fill up the pleasure. And I dare say, my lady 
herself is an admirable well-bred gentlewoman, and 
Mr. Lechery is as pretty a fellow. 

By this time Christiana was got on her way, and 
Mercy went along with her : so as they went, her 
children being there also, Christiana began to dis- 
course. And, Mercy, said Christiana, I take this as an 
unexpected favor, that thou shouldest set forth out of 
doors with me to accompany me a little in my way. 

Then said young Mercy, (for she was but young,) 
If I thought it would be to purpose to go with you, I 
would never go near the town any more. 

Well, Mercy, said Christiana, cast in thy lot with 
me : I well know what will be the end of our pil- 
grimage : my husband is where he would not but be 
for all the gold in the Spanish mines. Nor shalt thou 
be rejected, though thou goest but upon my invitation. 
The King, who hath sent for me and my children, is 
one that delighteth in Mercy. Besides, if thou wilt, I 
will hire thee, and thou shalt go along with me as my 
servant. Yet we will have all things in common be- 
twixt thee and me : only go along with me. 



MERCY GOES WITH CHRISTIANA. 225 

Mer. But how shall I be ascertained that I also 
should be entertained ? Had I this hope but from one 
that can tell, I would make no stick at all, but would go, 
being helped by Him that can help, though the way 
was never so tedious. 

Chr. Well, loving Mercy, I will tell thee what thou 
shalt do : go with me to the wicket-gate, and there I 
will further inquire for thee ; and if there thou shalt 
not meet with encouragement, I will be content that 
thou return to thy place ; I will also pay thee for thy 
kindness which thou showest to me and my children in 
the accompanying of us in our way as thou dost. 

Mer. Then will I go thither, and will take what 
shall follow ; and the Lord grant that my lot may there 
fall, even as the King of Heaven shall have his heart 
upon me. 

Christiana then was glad at her heart : not only that 
she had a companion ; but also for that she had pre- 
vailed with this poor maid to fall in love with her own 
salvation. So they went on together, and Mercy began 
to weep. Then said Christiana, Wherefore weepeth 
my sister so ? 

M er. Alas ! who can but lament, that shall but rightly 
consider what a state and condition my poor relations 
are in that yet remain in our sinful town ? And that 
which makes my grief the more heavy is, because they 
have no instructor, nor any to tell them what is to 
come. 

Chr. Bowels become pilgrims ; and thou dost weep 
for thy friends, as my good Christian did for me when 
he left me : he mourned for that I would not heed nor 
regard him ; but his Lord and ours did gather up his 
tears, and put them into his bottle ; and now both I and 
thou, and these my sweet babes, are reaping the fruit and 



226 MERCY ENCOURAGED. 

benefit of them. I hope, Mercy, that these tears of 
thine will not be lost ; for the truth hath said, that " they 
that sow in tears shall reap in joy.'" And " he that 
goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall 
doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his 
sheaves with him, 11 Ps., cxxvi., 5, 6. 
Then said Mercy, 

Let the most blessed be my guide, 

If it be his blessed will, 
Unto his gate, into his fold, 

Up to his holy hill. 

And let Him never suffer me 

To swerve, or turn aside 
From his free grace and holy ways, 

Whate'er shall me betide. 

And let Him gather them of mine 

That I have left behind ; 
Lord, make them pray they may be thine, 

With all their heart and mind. 

Now my old friend proceeded and said : But when 
Christiana came to the Slough of Despond, she began 
to be at a stand ; For, said she, this is the place in 
which my dear husband had like to have been smoth- 
ered with mud. She perceived, also, that notwith- 
standing the command of the King to make this place 
for pilgrims good, yet it was rather worse than for- 
merly. So I asked if that was true. Yes, said the old 
gentleman, too true ; for many there be that pretend 
to be the King's laborers, and say they are for mend- 
ing the King's highways, who bring dirt and dung 
instead of stones, and so mar instead of mending. 
Here Christiana therefore, with her boys, did make a 
stand. But said Mercy, Come, let us venture, only 



THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 227 

let us be wary. Then they looked well to their steps, 
and made a shift to get staggering over. 

Yet Christiana had like to have been in, and that 
not once or twice. Now they had no sooner got over, 
but they thought they heard words that said unto them, 
"Blessed is she that belie veth : for there shall be a 
performance of those things which were told her from 
the Lord,' 1 Luke, i., 45- 

Then they went on again ; and said Mercy to Chris- 
tiana, Had I as good ground to hope for a loving recep- 
tion at the Wicket-Gate as you, I think no Slough of 
Despond would discourage me. 

Well, said the other, you know your sore, and I 
know mine ; and, good friend, we shall all have enough 
evil before we come to our journey's end. For can it 
be imagined that the people who design to attain such 
excellent glories as we do, and who are so envied that 
happiness as we are, but that we shall meet with what 
fears and snares, with what troubles and afflictions 
they can possibly assault us with that hate us ? 

And now Mr. Sagacity left me to dream out my 
dream by myself. Wherefore, methought I saw Chris- 
tiana, and Mercy, and the boys, go all of them up to 
the gate : to which when they were come, they betook 
themselves to a short debate, about how they must man- 
age their calling at the gate, and what should be said 
unto him that did open to them : so it was concluded, 
since Christiana was the eldest, that she should knock 
for entrance, and that she should speak to him that 
did open, for the rest. So Christiana began to knock, 
and as her poor husband did, she knocked and knocked 
again. But instead of any that answered, they all 
thought that they heard as if a dog came barking upon 
them ; a dog, and a great one too : and this made the 



228 THE DOG BARKING AT THEM. 

women and children afraid. Nor durst they for a while 
to knock any more, for fear the mastiff should fly upon 
them. Now therefore they were greatly tumbled up 
and down in their minds, and knew not what to do ; 
knock they durst not, for fear of the dog ; go back they 
durst not, for fear the keeper of the gate should espy 
them as they so went, and should be offended with 
them ; at last they thought of knocking again, and 
knocked more vehemently than they did at first. Then 
said the keeper of the gate, Who is there? So the dog 
left off to bark, and he opened unto them. 

Then Christiana made low obeisance, and said, Let 
not our Lord be offended with his hand-maidens, for 
that we have knocked at his princely gate. Then said 
the keeper, Whence come ye ? And what is it that you 
would have? 

Christiana answered, we are come from whence 
Christian did come, and upon the same errand as he ; 
to wit, to be, if it shall please you, graciously admitted 
by this gate into the way that leads unto the Celestial 
City. And I answer, my Lord, in the next place, that 
I am Christiana, once the wife of Christian, that now 
is gotten above. 

With that the keeper of the gate did marvel, saying, 
What ! is she now become a pilgrim that but a while 
ago abhorred that life? Then she bowed her head, 
and said, Yea; and so are these my sweet babes also. 

Then he took her by the hand and led her in, and 
said also, Suffer the little children to come unto me ; 
and with that he shut up the gate. This done, he 
called to a trumpeter that was above, over the gate, to 
entertain Christiana with shouting, and the sound of 
trumpet, for joy. So he obeyed, and sounded, and 
filled the air with his melodious notes. 



CHRISTIANA RECEIVED. 229 

Now all this while poor Mercy did stand without, 
trembling and crying, for fear that she was rejected. 
But when Christiana had got admittance for herself and 
her boys, then she began to make intercession for Mercy. 

And she said, My Lord, I have a companion of 
mine that stands yet without, that is come hither 
upon the same account as myself: one that is much 
dejected in her mind, for that she comes, as she thinks, 
without sending for: whereas I was sent for by my 
husband's King to come. 

Now Mercy began to be very impatient, and each 
minute was as long to her as an hour; wherefore she 
prevented Christiana from a fuller interceding for her, 
by knocking at the gate herself. And she knocked then 
so loud that she made Christiana to start. Then said 
the keeper of the gate, Who is there ? and Christiana 
said, It is my friend. 

So he opened the gate, and looked out, but Mercy 
was fallen down without in a swoon, for she fainted, 
and was afraid that no gate should be opened to her. 

Then he took her by the hand, and said, Damsel, I 
bid thee arise. 

O Sir, she said, I am faint : there is scarce life left 
in me. But he answered, that one once said, " When 
my soul fainted within me I remembered the Lord : 
and my prayer came in unto thee, into thine holy tem- 
ple, 11 Jonah, ii., 7. Fear not, but stand upon thy feet, 
and tell me wherefore thou art come. 

Mer. I come for that unto which I was never in- 
vited, as my friend Christiana was. Hers was from 
the King, and mine was but from her. Wherefore I 
fear I presume. 

Keep. Did she desire thee to come with her to this 
place ? 



230 MERCY ADMITTED AND WELCOMED. 

Mer. Yes ; and as my Lord sees, I am come. And 
if there is any grace and forgiveness of sins to spare, 
I beseech that thy poor handmaid may be a partaker 
thereof. 

Then he took her again by the hand, and led her 
gently in, and said, I pray for all them that believe on 
me, by what means soever they come unto me. Then 
he said to those that stood by, Fetch something and 
give it Mercy to smell on, thereby to stay her faintings ; 
so they fetched her a bundle of myrrh, and a while 
after she was revived. 

And now were Christiana and her boys, and Mercy, 
received of the Lord at the head of the way and spoken 
kindly unto by him. Then said they yet further 
unto him, We are sorry for our sins, and beg of our 
Lord his pardon, and further information what we 
must do. 

I grant pardon, said he, by word and deed ; byword 
in the promise of forgiveness, by deed in the way I ob- 
tained it. Take the first from my lips with a kiss, and 
the other as it shall be revealed, Song, i.,2; John, 
xx., 20. 

Now I saw in my dream, that he spake many good 
words unto them, whereby they were greatly gladdened. 
He also had them up to the top of the gate, and showed 
them by what deed they were saved ; and told them 
withal, that that sight they would have again as they 
went along the way, to their comfort. 

So he left them awhile in a summer parlor below, 
where they entered into a talk by themselves ; and thus 
Christiana began : How glad am I that we are got in 
hither ! 

Mer. So you well may ; but I, of all, have cause to 
leap for joy. 



TALK BETWEEN THE CHRISTIANS. 23 1 

Chr. I thought one time, as I stood at the gate, be- 
cause I had knocked and none did answer, that all our 
labor had been lost, especially when that ugly cur made 
such a heavy barking against us. 

Mer. But my worst fear was after I saw that you 
were taken into his favor, and that I was left behind. 
Now, thought I, it is fulfilled which is written, " Two 
women shall be grinding at the mill ; the one shall be 
taken, and the other left." Matt., xxiv., 41. I had 
much ado to forbear crying out, Undone ! And afraid 
I was to knock any more ; but when I looked up to 
what was written over the gate, I took courage. I also 
thought that I must either knock again, or die ; so I 
knocked, but I cannot tell how ; for my spirit now 
struggled between life and death. 

Chr. Can you not tell how you knocked ? I am sure 
your knocks were so earnest that the very sound of 
them made me start ; I thought I never heard such 
knocking in all my life ; I thought you would come in 
by a violent hand, or take the kingdom by storm, 
Matt., xi., 12. 

Mer. Alas ! to be in my case, who that so was could 
but have done so ? You saw that the door was shut 
upon me, and that there was a most cruel dog there- 
about. Who, I say, that was so faint-hearted as I, 
would not have knocked with all their might? But 
pray, what said my Lord to my rudeness ? Was he not 
angry with me ? 

Chr. When he heard your lumbering noise, he gave 
a wonderful innocent smile ; I believe what you did 
pleased him well, for he showed no sign to the contrary. 
But I marvel in my heart why he keeps such a dog: 
had I known that before, I should not have had heart 
enough to have ventured myself in this manner. But 



232 EXPLANATION ABOUT THE DOG. 

now we are in, we are in, and I am glad with all my 
heart. 

Mer. I will ask, if you please, next time he comes 
down, why he keeps such a filthy cur in his yard; I 
hope he will not take it amiss. 

Do so, said the children, and persuade him to hang 
him ; for we are afraid he will bite us when we go 
hence. 

So at last he came down to them again, and Mercy 
fell to the ground on her face before him, and wor- 
shipped, and said, " Let my Lord accept the sacrifice 
of praise which I now offer unto him with the calves of 
my lips. 11 

So he said unto her, Peace be to thee ; stand up. 
But she continued upon her face, and said, " Right- 
eous art thou, O Lord, when I plead with thee; yet 
let me talk with thee of thy judgments, " Jer., xii., i. 
Wherefore dost thou keep so cruel a dog in thy yard, 
at the sight of which, such women and children as we, 
are ready to fly from the gate for fear? 

He answered and said, That dog has another owner ; 
he also is kept close in another man's ground, only my 
pilgrims hear his barking : he belongs to the castle 
which you see there at a distance, but can come 
up to the walls of this place. He has frightened many 
an honest pilgrim from worse to better, by the great 
voice of his roaring. Indeed, he that owneth him doth 
not keep him out of any good will to me or mine, but 
with intent to keep the pilgrims from coming to me, 
and that they may be afraid to come and knock at this 
gate for entrance. Sometimes also he has broken out, 
and has worried some that I loved ; but I take all at 
present patiently. I also give my pilgrims timely help, 
so that they are not delivered to his power, to do with 



THE DEVIL'S GARDEN. 233 

them what his doggish nature would prompt him to. But 
what, my purchased one, I trow, hadst thou known 
never so much beforehand, thou wouldst not have been 
afraid of a dog. The beggars that go from door to door, 
will, rather than lose a supposed alms, run the hazard 
of the bawling, barking, and biting too, of a dog ; and 
shall a dog, a dog in another man's yard, a dog whose 
barking I turn to the profit of pilgrims, keep any one 
from coming to me? I deliver them from the lions, and 
my darling from the power of the dog. 

Then said Mercy, I confess my ignorance ; I spake 
what I understand not ; I acknowledge that thou dost 
all things well. 

Then Christiana began to talk of their journey, 
and to inquire after the way. So he fed them and 
washed their feet, and set them in the way of his steps, 
according as he had dealt with her husband before. 

So I saw in my dream that they walked on their 
way, and had the weather very comfortable to them. 

Then Christiana began to sing, saying : 

Bless'd be the day that I began 

A pilgrim for to be ; 
And blessed also be the man 

That thereto moved me. 

'Tis true, 'twas long ere I began 

To seek to live iorever ; 
But now I run fast as I can ; 

'Tis better late than never. 

Our tears to joy, our fears to faith, 

Are turned, as we see ; 
Thus our beginning (as one saith) 

Shows what our end will be. 



234 TWO ILL-FAVORED ONES ASSAULT THEM. 

Now there was, on the other side of the wall that 
fenced in the way up which Christiana and her com- 
panions were to go, a garden, and that garden be- 
longed to him whose was that barking dog, of whom 
mention was made before. And some of the fruit- 
trees that grew in that garden shot their branches 
over the wall ; and being mellow, they that found them 
did gather them up, and eat of them to their hurt. So 
Christiana's boys, as boys are apt to do, being pleased 
with the trees, and with the fruit that hung thereon, 
did pluck them, and began to eat. Their mother did 
also chide them for so doing, but still the boys went on. 

Well, said she, my sons, you transgress, for that 
fruit is none of ours ; but she did not know that it 
belonged to the enemy ; I'll warrant you if she had she 
would have been ready to die for fear. But that passed, 
and they went on their way. Now by that they were 
gone about two bow-shots from the place that led them 
into the way, they espied two very ill-favored ones 
coming down apace to meet them. With that Chris- 
tiana and Mercy her friend covered themselves with 
their veils, and so kept on their journey ; the children 
also went on before ; so at last they met together. 
Then they that came down to meet them, came just 
up to the women, as if they would embrace them ; but 
Christiana said, Stand back, or go peaceably as you 
should. Yet these two, as men that are deaf, regarded 
not Christiana's words, but began to lay hands upon 
them : at that Christiana, waxing very wroth, spurned 
at them with her feet. Mercy, also, as well as she 
could, did what she could to shift them. Christiana 
again said to them, Stand back, and be gone, for we 
have no money to lose, being pilgrims, as you see, and 
such, too, as live upon the charity of our friends. 



THEY ARE RESCUED. 235 

Then said one of the two men, We make no assault 
upon you for money, but are come out to tell you, 
that if you will but grant one small request which 
we shall ask, we will make women of you for ever. 

Now Christiana, imagining what they should mean, 
made answer again, We will neither hear, nor regard, 
nor yield to what you shall ask. We are in haste, 
and cannot stay ; our business is a business of life 
and death. So again she and her companion made 
fresh essay to go past them ; but they letted them 
in their way. 

And they said, We intend no hurt to your lives ; 
it is another thing we would have. 

Ay, quoth Christiana, you would have us body 
and soul, for I know it is for that you are come ; but 
we will die rather upon the spot, than to suffer our- 
selves to be brought into such snares as shall hazard 
our well-being hereafter. And with that they both 
shrieked out and cried, Murder ! murder ! and so put 
themselves under those laws that are provided for the 
protection of women, Deut., xxii., 25-27. But the 
men still made their approach upon them, with 
design to prevail against them. They therefore cried 
out again. 

Now, they being, as I said, not far from the gate in 
at which they came, their voice was heard from whence 
they were, thither : wherefore some of the house came 
out, and knowing that it was Christiana's tongue, they 
made haste to her relief. But by that they were got 
within sight of them the women were in a very great 
scuffle ; the children also stood crying by. Then did 
he that came in for their relief call out to the ruffians, 
saying, What is that thing you do ; would you make 
my Lord's people to transgress ? He also attempted to 



236 DISCOURSE WITH THE RELIEVER. 

take them, but they did make their escape over the 
wall into the garden of the man to whom the great dog 
belonged; so the dog became their protector. This 
Reliever then came up to the women, and asked them 
how they did. So they answered, We thank thy 
Prince, pretty well, only we have been somewhat 
affrighted ; we thank thee also for that thou earnest in 
to our help, otherwise we had been overcome. 

So after a few more words this Reliever said as 
followeth : I marvelled much when you was enter- 
tained at the gate above, seeing ye knew that ye 
were but weak women, that you petitioned not the 
Lord for a conductor; then might you have avoided 
these troubles and dangers ; for he would have granted 
you one. 

Alas ! said Christiana, we were so taken with our 
present blessing, that dangers to come were forgotten 
by us. Beside, who could have thought, that so near 
the King's palace there could have lurked such naughty 
ones? Indeed, it had been well for us had we asked 
our Lord for one ; but since our Lord knew it would 
be for our profit, I wonder he sent not one along with us. 

Rel. It is not always necessary to grant things not 
asked for, lest by so doing they become of little esteem ; 
but when the want of a thing is felt, it then comes 
under, in the eyes of him that feels it, that estimate 
that properly is its due, and so consequently it will be 
thereafter used. Had my Lord granted you a con- 
ductor, you would not either so have bewailed that 
oversight of yours, in not asking for one, as now you 
have occasion to do. So all things work for good, 
and tend to make you more wary. 

Chr. Shall we go back again to my Lord and con- 
fess our folly, and ask one ? 



CHRISTIANA'S DREAM REPEATED. 237 

Rel. Your confession of your folly I will present 
him with. To go back again, you need not; for in 
all places where you shall come, you will find no want 
at all ; for in every of my Lord's lodgings, which he 
has prepared for the reception of his pilgrims, there is 
sufficient to furnish them against all attempts whatso- 
ever. But, as I said, He will be inquired of by them 
to do it for them, Ezek., xxxvi., 37. And 'tis a poor 
thing that is not worth asking for. When he had thus 
said, he went back to his place, and the pilgrims went 
on their way. 

Then said Mercy, What a sudden blank is here ! I 
made account we had been past all danger, and that 
we should never see sorrow more. 

Thy innocency, my sister, said Christiana to Mercy, 
may excuse thee much : but as for me, my fault 
is so much the greater, for that I saw this danger 
before I came out of the doors, and yet did not provide 
for it when provision might have been had. I am much 
to be blamed. 

Then said Mercy, How knew you this before you 
came from home? Pray open to me this riddle. 

Chr. Why, I will tell you. Before I set foot out of 
doors, one night as I lay in my bed I had a dream about 
this ; for methought I saw two men, as like these as 
ever any in the world could look, stand at my bed's feet, 
plotting how they might prevent my salvation. I will 
tell you their very words. They said (it was when 
I was in my troubles), What shall we do with this 
woman? for she cries out waking and sleeping for for- 
giveness ; if she be suffered to go on as she begins, we 
shall lose her as we have lost her husband. This you 
know might have made me take heed, and have pro- 
vided when provision might have been had. 



Well, said Mercy, as by this neglect we have an 
occasion ministered unto us to behold our own im- 
perfections, so our Lord has taken occasion thereby to 
make manifest the riches of his grace ; for he, as we see, 
has followed us with unasked kindness, and has deliv- 
ered us from their hands that were stronger than we, 
of his mere good pleasure. 

Thus now when they had talked away a little more 
time, they drew near to a house which stood in the 
way, which house was built for the relief of pilgrims, 
as you will find more fully related in the first part of 
these records of the Pilgrim's Progress. So they drew 
on toward the house (the house of the Interpreter) ; 
and when they came to the door they heard a great talk 
in the house. Then they gave ear, and heard, as they 
thought, Christiana mentioned by name ; for you must 
know that there went along, even before her, a talk of her 
and her children's going on pilgrimage. And this was 
the more pleasing to them, because they had heard that 
she was Christian's wife, that woman who was some 
time ago so unwilling to hear of going on pilgrimage. 
Thus, therefore, they stood still, and heard the good 
people within commending her, who they little thought 
stood at the door. At last Christiana knocked, as she 
had done at the gate before. Now, when she had 
knocked, there came to the door a young damsel, and 
opened the door, and looked, and behold two women 
were there. 

Then said the damsel to them, With whom would 
you speak in this place ? 

Christiana answered, We understand that this is a 
privileged place for those that are become pilgrims, 
and we now at this door are such ; wherefore we pray 
that we may be partakers of that for which we at this 



JOY AT THEIR COMING IN THE HOUSE. 239 

time are come ; for the day, as thou seest, is very far 
spent, and we are loth to-night to go any further. 

Dam. Pray what may I call your name, that I may 
tell it to my Lord within? 

Chr. My name is Christiana; I was the wife of that 
pilgrim that some years ago did travel this way, and 
these be his four children. This maiden is also my 
companion, and is going on pilgrimage too. 

Then Innocent ran in (for that was her name), 
and said to those within, Can you think who is at the 
door? There is Christiana and her children, and her 
companion, all waiting for entertainment here. Then 
they leaped for joy, and went and told their master. 
So he came to the door, and looking upon her, he said, 
Art thou that Christiana whom Christian, the good man, 
left behind him when he betook himself to a pilgrim's 
life? 

Chr. I am that woman that was so hard-hearted as 
to slight my husband's troubles, and that left him to go 
on his journey alone, and these are his four children ; 
but now also I am come, for I am convinced that no 
way is right but this. 

Inter. Then is fulfilled that which is written of the 
man that said to his son, " Go work to-day in my vine- 
yard ; and he said to his father, I will not : but after- 
ward repented and went," Matt., xxi., 29. 

Then said Christiana, So be it, Amen. God make 
it a true saying upon me, and grant that I maybe found 
at the last of Him in peace, without spot, and blame- 
less. 

Inter. But why standest thou thus at the door? 
Come in, thou daughter of Abraham ; we were talking 
of thee but now, for tidings have come to us before how 
thou art become a pilgrim. Come children, come in; 



240 THEIR HAPPY RECEPTION. 

come, maiden, come in. So he had them all into the 
house. 

So when they were within, they were bidden to sit 
down and rest them ; the which when they had done, 
those that attended upon the pilgrims in the house 
came into the room to see them. And one smiled, and 
another smiled, and they all smiled for joy that Chris- 
tiana was become a pilgrim. They also looked upon 
the boys ; they stroked them over their faces with the 
hand in token of their kind reception of them : they 
also carried it lovingly to Mercy, and bid them all wel- 
come to their master's house. 

After a while, because supper was not ready, the 
Interpreter took them into his Significant Rooms, and 
showed them what Christiana's husband had seen some 
time before. Here therefore they saw the man in the 
cage, the man and his dream, the man that cut his way 
through his enemies, and the picture of the biggest of 
them all, together with the rest of those things that 
were then so profitable to Christian. 

This done, and after those things had been some- 
what digested by Christiana and her company, the In- 
terpreter takes them apart again, and has them first into 
a room, where was a man that could look no way but 
downwards, with a muck-rake in his hand. There 
stood also one over his head, with a celestial crown in 
his hand, and proffered him that crown for his muck- 
rake ; but the man did neither look up nor regard, but 
raked to himself the straws, the small sticks, and dust 
of the floor. 

Then said Christiana, I persuade myself that I know 
somewhat the meaning of this : for this is the figure of 
a man of this world ; is it not, good sir? 

Thou hast said the right, said he ; and his muck- 



THE MAN WITH THE MUCK-RAKE. 24I 

rake doth show his carnal mind. And whereas thou 
seest him rather give heed to rake up straws and sticks, 
and the dust of the floor, than to do what He says 
that calls to him from above with the celestial crown in 
his hand, it is to show that heaven is but a fable to 
some, and that things here are counted the only things 
substantial. Now, whereas it was also showed thee 
that the man could look no way but downwards, it is to 
let thee know that earthly things, when they are with 
power upon men's minds, quite carry their hearts away 
from God. 

Then said Christiana, O deliver me from this muck- 
rake, Pro v., xxx., 8. 

That prayer, said the Interpreter, has lain by till it 
is almost rusty : Give me not riches, is scarce the 
prayer of ten thousand. Straws, and sticks, and dust, 
with most, are the great things now looked after. 

With that Christiana and Mercy wept, and said, It is, 
alas ! too true. 

When the Interpreter had showed them this, he had 
them into the very best room in the house ; a very brave 
room it was. So he bid them look round about, and 
see if they could find anything profitable there. Then 
they looked round and round ; for there was nothing 
to be seen but a very great spider on the wall, and that 
they overlooked. 

Then said Mercy, Sir, I see nothing: but Chris- 
tiana held her peace. 

But said the Interpreter, look again. She there- 
fore looked again, and said, Here is not any thing 
but an ugly spider, who hangs by her hands upon the 
wall. Then said he, Is there but one spider in all this 
spacious room? Then the water stood in Christiana's 
eyes, for she was a woman quick of apprehension : and 



242 THE SPIDER. 

she said, Yea, Lord, there are more here than one ; 
yea, and spiders whose venom is far more destructive 
than that which is in her. The Interpreter then looked 
pleasantly on her, and said, Thou hast said the truth. 
This made Mercy to blush, and the boys to cover their 
faces ; for they all began now to understand the riddle. 

Then said the Interpreter again, " The spider taketh 
hold with her hands, as you see, and is in kings 1 pal- 
aces." Prov., xxx., 28. And wherefore is this recorded, 
but to show you, that how full of the venom of sin so- 
ever you be, yet you may, by the hand of Faith, lay 
hold of and dwell in the best room that belongs to the 
King's house above ? 

I thought, said Christiana, of something of this ; 
but I could not imagine it all. I thought that we 
were like spiders, and that we looked like ugly crea- 
tures, in what fine rooms soever we were : but that by 
this spider, that venomous and ill-favored creature, we 
were to learn how to act faith, that came not into my 
thoughts ; and yet she had taken hold with her hands, 
and she dwelleth in the best room in the house. God 
has made nothing in vain. 

Then they seemed all to be glad ; but the water 
stood in their eyes : yet they looked one upon another, 
and also bowed before the Interpreter. 

He had them then into another room, where were a 
hen and chickens, and bid them observe a while. So 
one of the chickens went to the trough to drink ; and 
every time she drank she lifted up her head and her 
eyes toward heaven. See, said he, what this little 
chick doth, and learn of her to acknowledge whence 
your mercies come, by receiving them with looking 
up. Yet, again, said he, observe and look ; so they 
gave heed, and perceived that the hen did walk in 2- 



THE HEN AND CHICKENS. 243 

fourfold method toward her chickens: 1. She had a 
common call, and that she hath all day long. 2. She 
had a special call, and that she had but sometimes. 

3. She had a brooding note, Matt., xxiii., 37. And 

4. She had an outcry. 

Now, said he, compare this hen to your King, and 
these chickens to his obedient ones ; for answerable to 
her, he himself hath his methods which he walketh in 
toward his people. By his common call he gives noth- 
ing ; by his special call, he always has something to 
give ; he has also a brooding voice, for them that are 
under his wing ; and he has an outcry, to give the 
alarm when he seeth the enemy come. I chose, my 
darlings, to lead you into the room where such things 
are, because you are women, and they are easy for 
you. 

And, sir, said Christiana, pray let us see some more. 
So he had them into the slaughter-house, where was a 
butcher killing a sheep ; and behold, the sheep was 
quiet, and took her death patiently. Then said the 
Interpreter, You must learn of this sheep to suffer, and 
to put up with wrongs without murmurings and com- 
plaints. Behold how quietly she takes her death, 
and, without objecting, she suffereth her skin to be 
pulled over her ears. Your King doth call you his 
sheep. 

After this he led them into his garden, where was 
great variety of flowers ; and he said, Do you see all 
these? So Christiana said, Yes. Then said he again, 
Behold, the flowers are diverse in stature, in quality, 
and color, and smell, and virtue ; and some are better 
than others ; also where the gardener hath set them, 
there they stand, and quarrel not with one another. 

Again he had them into his field, which he had 



244 THE FIELD — THE ROBIN AND SPIDER. 

sown with wheat and corn : but when they beheld, the 
tops of all were cut off, and only the straw remained, 
he said again, This ground was dunged, and ploughed, 
and sowed, but what shall we do with the crop? Then 
said Christiana, Burn some, and make muck of the rest. 
Then said the Interpreter again, Fruit, you see, is that 
thing you look for ; and for want of that you condemn 
it to the fire, and to be trodden under foot of men: 
beware that in this you condemn not yourselves. 

Then, as they were coming in from abroad, they 
espied a little robin with a great spider in his mouth. 
So the Interpreter said, Look here. So they looked, 
and Mercy wondered ; but Christiana said, What a 
disparagement is it to such a pretty little bird as the 
robin-red-breast is, he being also a bird above many, 
that loveth to maintain a kind of sociableness with 
men ! I had thought they had lived upon crumbs of 
bread, or upon other such harmless matter ; I like him 
worse than I did. 

The Interpreter then replied, This robin is an 
emblem, very apt to set forth some professors by ; for 
to sight they are, as this robin, pretty of note, color, 
and carriage. They seem also to have a very great 
love for professors that are sincere ; and, above all 
others, to desire to associate with them, and to be in 
their company, as if they could live upon the good 
man's crumbs. They pretend also, that therefore it is 
that they frequent the house of the godly, and the 
appointments of the Lord : but when they are by them- 
selves, as the robin, they can catch and gobble up 
spiders ; they can change their diet, drink iniquity, 
and swallow down sin like water. 

So when they were come again into the house, 
because supper as yet was not ready, Christiana again 



THE INTERPRETER'S PROFITABLE SAYINGS. 245 

desired that the Interpreter would either show, or tell 
of, some other things that are profitable. 

Then the Interpreter began, and said : The fatter the 
sow is, the more she desires the mire ; the fatter the 
ox is, the more gamesomely he goes to the slaughter ; 
and the more healthy the lustful man is, the more 
prone he is unto evil. 

There is a desire in women to go neat and fine ; and 
it is a comely thing to be adorned with that which 
in God's sight is of great price. 

'Tis easier watching a night or two, than to sit up a 
whole year together: so 'tis easier for one to begin 
to profess well, than to hold out as he should to the 
end. 

Every shipmaster, when in a storm, will willingly 
cast that overboard which is of the smallest value in 
the vessel; but who will throw the best out first? 
None but he that feareth not God. 

One leak will sink a ship, and one sin will destroy a 
sinner. 

He that forgets his friend is ungrateful unto him ; but 
he that forgets his Saviour is unmerciful to himself. 

He that lives in sin, and looks for happiness here- 
after, is like him that soweth cockle, and thinks to fill 
his barn with wheat or barley. 

If a man would live well, let him fetch his last day 
to him, and make it always his company-keeper. 

Whispering, and change of thoughts, prove that sin 
is in the world. 

If the world, which God sets light by, is counted a 
thing of that worth with men, what is heaven that 
God commendeth ? 

If the life that is attended with so many troubles, is 
so loth to be let go by us, what is the life above ? 



246 OF THE ROTTEN TREE. 

Every body will cry up the goodness of men ; but 
who is there that is as he should be, affected with the 
goodness of God? 

We seldom sit down to meat, but we eat, and leave. 
So there is in Jesus Christ more merit and righteous- 
ness than the whole world has need of. 

When the Interpreter had done, he takes them out 
into his garden again, and had them to a tree whose 
inside was all rotten and gone, and yet it grew and had 
leaves. Then said Mercy, What means this? This 
tree, said he, whose outside is fair, and whose inside is 
rotten, is that to which many may be compared that 
are in the garden of God ; who with their mouths 
speak high in behalf of God, but indeed will do nothing 
for him ; whose leaves are fair, but their heart good for 
nothing but to be tinder for the devil's tinder-box. 

Now supper was ready, the table spread, and all 
things set on the board ; so that they sat down, and 
did eat, when one had given thanks. And the Inter- 
preter did usually entertain those that lodged with him 
with music at meals ; so the minstrels played. 
There was also one that did sing, and a very fine voice 
he had. His song was this : 

The Lord is only my support, 

And he that doth me feed ; 
How can 1 then want any thing 

Whereof I stand in need ? 

When the song and music were ended the Inter- 
preter asked Christiana, what it was that first did move 
her to betake herself to a pilgrim's life. Christiana 
answered, First, the loss of my husband came into 
my mind at which I was heartily grieved ; but all that 
was but natural affection. Then after that came the 



CHRISTIANA RELATES HER EXPERIENCE. 247 

troubles and pilgrimage of my husband into my mind, 
and also how like a churl I had carried it to him as to 
that. So guilt took hold of my mind, and would have 
drawn me into the pond, but that opportunely I had a 
dream of the well-being of my husband, and a letter 
sent by the King of that country where my husband 
dwells, to come to him. The dream and the letter 
together so wrought upon my mind that they forced me 
to this way. 

Inter. But met you with no opposition before you 
set out of doors? 

Chr. Yes, a neighbor of mine, one Mrs. Timor- 
ous : she was akin to him that would have persuaded 
my husband to go back for fear of the lions. 

She also befooled me, for, as she called it, my in- 
tended desperate adventure : she also urged what she 
could to dishearten me from it, the hardship and 
troubles that my husband met with in the way ; but all 
this I got over pretty well. But a dream that I had of 
two ill-looking ones, that I thought did plot how to 
make me miscarry in my journey, that hath troubled 
me much : yea, it still runs in my mind, and makes me 
afraid of every one that I meet, lest they should meet 
me to do me a mischief, and to turn me out of my 
way. Yea, I may tell my Lord, though I would not 
have everybody know it, that between this and the gate 
by which we got into the way, we were both so sorely 
assaulted, that we were made to cry out murder ; and 
the two that made this assault upon us were like the two 
that I saw in my dream. 

Then said the Interpreter, Thy beginning is good ; 
thy latter end shall greatly increase. So he addressed 
himself to Mercy, and said unto her, And what moved 
thee to come hither, sweet heart? 



248 mercy's experience. 

Then Mercy blushed and trembled, and for a while 
continued silent. 

Then said he, Be not afraid ; only believe, and speak 
thy mind. 

So she began, and said, Truly, sir, my want of 
experience is that which makes me covet to be in 
silence, and that also that fills me with fears of 
coming short at last. I cannot tell of visions and 
dreams, as my friend Christiana can ; nor know I what 
it is to mourn for my refusing of the counsel of those 
that were good relations. 

Inter. What was it then, dear heart, that hath pre- 
vailed with thee to do as thou hast done ? 

Mer. Why, when our friend here was packing up to 
be gone from our town, I and another went accidentally 
to see her. So we knocked at the door and went in. 
When we were within, and seeing what she was doing, 
we asked her what was her meaning. She said she 
was sent for to go to her husband ; and then she up and 
told us how she had seen him in a dream, dwelling in a 
curious place, among immortals, wearing a crown, play- 
ing upon a harp, eating and drinking at his Prince's 
table, and singing praises to Him for bringing him 
thither, etc. Now methought, while she was telling 
these things unto us, my heart burned within me. 
And I said in my heart, If this be true I will leave my 
father and my mother, and the land of my nativity, and 
will, if I may, go along with Christiana. So I asked 
her further of the truth of these things, and if she 
would let me go with her ; for I saw now that there 
was no dwelling, but with the danger of ruin, any 
longer in our town. -But yet I came away with a heavy 
heart ; not for that I was unwilling to come away, but 
for that so many of my relations were left behind. 



MERCY ? S EXPERIENCE. 249 

And I am come with all the desire of my heart, and 
will go, if I may, with Christiana unto her husband 
and his King. 

Inter. Thy setting out is good, for thou hast given 
credit to the truth ; thou art a Ruth, who did, for the 
love she bare to Naomi, and to the Lord her God, 
leave father and mother, and the land of her nativity, 
to come out and go with a people that she knew not 
heretofore, Ruth, ii., u, 12. The Lord recompense 
thy work, and full reward be given thee of the Lord 
God of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to 
trust. 

Now supper was ended, and preparation was made 
for bed ; the women were laid singly alone, and the 
boys by themselves. Now when Mercy was in bed, 
she could not sleep for joy, for that now her doubts of 
missing at last were removed further from her than ever 
they were before. So she lay blessing and praising 
God, who had had such favor for her. 

In the morning they arose with the sun, and prepared 
themselves for their departure : but the Interpreter 
would have them tarry a while ; For, said he, you 
must orderly go from hence. Then said he to the 
damsel that first opened to them, Take them and have 
them into the garden to the bath, and there wash them, 
and make them clean from the soil which they have 
gathered by travelling. Then Innocent the damsel 
took them and had them into the garden, and brought 
them to the bath ; so she told them, that there they 
must wash and be clean, for so her Master would have 
the women to do that called at his house as they were 
going on pilgrimage. Then they went in and washed, 
yea, they and the boys, and all ; and they came out of 
the bath, not only sweet and clean, but also much en- 



250 THE BATH — THE PILGRIMS ARE SEALED. 

livened, and strengthened in their joints. So when 
they came in, they looked fairer a deal than when 
they went out to the washing. 

When they were returned out of the garden from the 
bath, the Interpreter took them, and looked upon them, 
and said unto them, Fair as the moon. Then he called 
for the seal wherewith they used to be sealed that are 
washed in his bath. So the seal was brought, and he 
set his mark upon them, that they might be known in 
the places whither they were yet to go. Now the seal 
was the contents and sum of the passover which the 
children of Israel did eat, Exod., xiii., 8-10, when they 
came out of the land of Egypt ; and the mark was set 
between their eyes. This seal added greatly to their 
beauty, for it was an ornament to their faces. It also 
added to their gravity, and made their countenance 
more like those of angels. 

Then said the Interpreter again to the damsel that 
waited upon these women, Go into the vestry, and fetch 
out garments for these people. So she went and 
fetched out white raiment, and laid it down before him : 
so he commanded them to put it on : it was fine linen, 
white and clean. When the women were thus adorned 
they seemed to be a terror one to the other ; for that 
they could not see that glory each one had in herself, 
which they could see in each other. Now therefore 
they began to esteem each other better than themselves. 
For, You are fairer than I, said one ; and You are more 
comely than I, said another. The children also stood 
amazed, to see into what fashion they were brought. 

The Interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, 
one Great-Heart, and bid him take sword, and helmet, 
and shield ; and, Take these my daughters, said he, 
conduct them to the house called Beautiful, at which 



GREAT-HEART. 



'5* 



place they will rest next. So he took his weapons, 
and went before them ; and the Interpreter said, God 
speed. Those also that belonged to the family sent 
them away with many a good wish. So they went on 
their way, and sang : 

This place hath been our second stage. 

Here we have heard and seen 
Those good things, that from age to age 

To others hid have been. 

The dunghill-raker, spider, hen, 

The chicken, too, to me 
Have taught a lesson : let me then 

Conformed to it be. 

The butcher, garden, and the field, 

The robin and his bait, 
Also the rotten tree, doth yield 

Me argument of weight ; 

To move me for to watch and pray 

To strive to be sincere : 
To take my cross up day by day, 

And serve the Lord with fear. 

Now I saw in my dream, that they went on, and 
Great-Heart before them. So they went, and came to 
the place where Christian's burden fell off his back and 
tumbled into a sephulchre. Here then they made a 
pause ; and here also they blessed God. Now, said 
Christiana, comes to my mind what was said to us at 
the gate, to wit, that we should have pardon by word 
and deed ; by word, that is, by the promise ; by deed, 
to wit, in the way it was obtained. What the promise 
is, of that I know something; but what it is to have 
pardon by deed, or in the way that it was obtained, 



252 THEY COME TO THE CROSS. 

Mr. Great-Heart, I suppose you know ; therefore, if you 
please, let us hear you discourse thereof. 

Great. Pardon by the deed done, is pardon obtained 
by some one for another that hath need thereof; not 
by the person pardoned, but in the way, saith another, 
in which I have obtained it. So then, to speak to the 
question more at large, the pardon that you, and Mercy, 
and these boys, have attained, was obtained by another ; 
to wit, by Him that let you in at the gate. And he 
hath obtained it in this double way ; he has performed 
righteousness to cover you, and spilt his blood to wash 
you in. 

Chr. But if he parts with his righteousness to us, 
what will he have for himself? 

Great. He has more righteousness than you have 
need of, or than he needeth himself. 

Chr. Pray make that appear. 

Great. With all my heart : but first I must premise, 
that He of whom we are now about to speak, is one 
that has not his fellow. He has two natures in one 
person, plain to be distinguished, impossible to be 
divided. Unto each of these natures a righteousness 
belongeth, and each righteousness is essential to that 
nature ; so that one may as easily cause the nature to 
be extinct as to separate its justice or righteousness 
from it. Of those righteousnesses therefore we are 
not made partakers, so as that they, or any of them, 
should be put upon us, that we might be made just, 
and live thereby. Besides these, there is a righteous- 
ness which this person has, as these two natures are 
joined in one. And this is not the righteousness of the 
Godhead, as distinguished from the manhood ; nor the 
righteousness of the manhood, as distinguished from 
the Godhead ; but a righteousness which standeth 



OF OUR BEING JUSTIFIED BY CHRIST. 253 

in the union of both natures, and may properly be called 
the righteousness that is essential to his being pre- 
pared of God to the capacity of the mediatory office, 
which he was to be intrusted with. If he parts with 
his first righteousness, he parts with his Godhead ; if 
he parts with his second righteousness, he parts with 
the purity of his manhood ; if he parts with his third, 
he parts with that perfection which capacitates him for 
the office of mediation. He has therefore another 
righteousness, which standeth in performance, or obedi- 
ence to a revealed will ; and that is it that he puts upon 
sinners, and that by which their sins are covered. 
Wherefore he saith, "As by one man's disobedience 
many were made sinners, so by the obedience of one 
shall many be made righteous, 11 Rom., v., 19. 

Chr. But are the other righteousnesses of no use to 
us? 

Great. Yes ; for though they are essential to his 
natures and offices, and cannot be communicated unto 
another ; yet it is by virtue of them that the righteous- 
ness that justifies is for that purpose efficacious. The 
righteousness of his Godhead gives virtue to his obedi- 
ence ; the righteousness of his manhood giveth capa- 
bility to his obedience to justify ; and the righteousness 
that standeth in the union of these two natures to his 
office, giveth authority to that righteousness to do the 
work for which it was ordained. 

So then here is a righteousness that Christ, as God, 
has no need of; for he is God without it. Here is a 
righteousness that Christ, as man, has no need of to 
make him so ; for he is perfect man without it. Again, 
here is a righteousness that Christ, as God-man, has 
no need of; for he is perfectly so without it. Here 
then is a righteousness that Christ, as God, and as 



254 OF 0UR BEING JUSTIFIED BY CHRIST. 

God-man, has no need of with reference to himself, 
and therefore he can spare it ; a justifying righteous- 
ness, that he for himself wanteth not, and therefore 
giveth it away. Hence it is called the gift of righteous- 
ness. This righteousness, since Christ Jesus the Lord 
has made himself under the law, must be given away; 
for the law doth not only bind him that is under it, to 
do justly, but to use charity, Rom., v., 17. Where- 
fore he must, or ought, by the law, if he hath two 
coats, to give one to him that hath none. Now our 
Lord indeed hath two coats, one for himself, and one 
to spare ; wherefore he freely bestows one upon those 
that have none. And thus, Christiana and Mercy, 
and the rest of you that are here, doth your pardon 
come by deed, or by the work of another man. Your 
Lord Christ is he that worked, and hath given away 
what he wrought for to the next poor beggar he 
meets. 

But again, in order to pardon by deed, there must 
something be paid to God as a price, as well as some- 
thing prepared to cover us withal. Sin has delivered 
us up to the just curse of a righteous law : now from this 
curse we must be justified by way of redemption, a 
price being paid for the harms we have done ; and this 
is by the blood of your Lord, who came and stood in 
your place and stead, and died your death for your 
transgressions. Thus has he ransomed you from your 
transgressions by blood, and covered your polluted 
and deformed souls with righteousness, Rom., viii., 
34 ; for the sake of which, God passed by you, and will 
not hurt you when he comes to judge the worlcr, Gal., 
iii., 13. 

Chr. This is brave ! Now I see that there was some- 
thing to be learned by our being pardoned by word 



ADMIRATION OF THE GRACE OF CHRIST. 255 

and deed. Good Mercy, let us labor to keep this in 
mind : and, my children, do you remember it also. 
But, sir, was not this it that made my good Christian's 
burden fall from off his shoulder, and that made him 
give three leaps for joy? 

Great. Yes, it was the belief of this that cut off 
those strings that could not be cut by other means ; 
and it was to give him a proof of the virtue of 
this, that he was suffered to carry his burden to the 
cross. 

Chr. I thought so ; for though my heart was light- 
some and joyous before, yet it is ten times more light- 
some and joyous now. And I am persuaded by what 
I have felt, though I have felt but little as yet, that if 
the most burdened man in the world was here, and 
did see and believe as I now do, it would make his 
heart merry and blithe. 

Great. There is not only comfort and the ease of a 
burden brought to us by the sight and consideration 
of these, but an endeared affection begot in us by it ; 
for who can, if he doth but once think that pardon 
comes not only by promise, but thus, but be affected 
with the way and means of his redemption, and so with 
the man that wrought it for him? 

Chr. True, methinks it makes my heart bleed, to 
think that he should bleed for me. Oh ! thou loving 
One : Oh ! thou blessed One. Thou deservest to have 
me : thou hast bought me. Thou deservest to have 
me all : thou hast paid for me ten thousand times more 
than I am worth. No marvel that this made the tears 
stand in my husband's eyes, and that it made him 
trudge so nimbly on. I am persuaded he wished me 
with him : but, vile wretch that I was ! I let him come 
all alone. O Mercy, that thy father and mother were 



256 SIMPLE, SLOTH, AND PRESUMPTION HANGING. 

here? yea, and Mrs. Timorous also! nay, I wish now 
with all my heart that here was Madam Wanton too. 
Surely, surely, their hearts would be affected ; nor 
could the fear of the one, nor the powerful lusts of the 
other, prevail with them to go home again, and refuse 
to become good pilgrims. 

Great. You speak now in the warmth of your affec- 
tions ; will it, think you, be always thus with you? 
Besides, this is not communicated to every one, not to 
every one that did see your Jesus bleed. There were 
that stood by, and that saw the blood run from his 
heart to the ground, and yet were so far off this, that, 
instead of lamenting, they laughed at him and, instead 
of becoming his disciples, did harden their hearts 
against him. So that all that you have, my daughters, 
you have by peculiar impression made by a divine con- 
templating upon what I have spoken to you. Remem- 
ber that 'twas told you, that the hen, by her common 
call, gives no meat to her chickens. This you have 
therefore by a special grace. 

Now I saw in my dream, that they went on until 
they were come to the place that Simple, and Sloth, 
and Presumption, lay and slept in when Christian went 
by on pilgrimage : and behold, they were hanged up in 
irons a little way off on the other side. 

Then said Mercy to him that was their guide and 
conductor, What are these three men? and for what 
are they hanged there? 

Great. These three were men of bad qualities ; 
they had no mind to be pilgrims themselves, and 
whomsoever they could, they hindered. They were 
for sloth and folly themselves, and whomsoever they 
could persuade they made so too, and withal taught 
them to presume that they should do well at last. They 



THEY REACH THE HILL DIFFICULTY. 257 

were asleep when Christian went by, and now you go 
by, they are hanged. 

Mer. But could they persuade any to be of their 
opinion? 

Great. Yes, they turned several out of the way. 

There was Slow-pace that they persuaded to do as 
they. They also prevailed with one Short-Wind, with 
one No-Heart, with one Linger-after- Lust, and with 
one Sleepy-Head, and with a young woman, her name 
was Dull, to turn out of the way and become as they. 
Besides, they brought up an ill-report of your Lord, 
persuading others that he was a hard taskmaster. They 
also brought up an evil report of the good land, saying 
it was not half so good as some pretended it was. 
They also began to vilify his servants, and to count 
the very best of them meddlesome, troublesome, 
busy-bodies. Further, they would call the bread 
of God husks; the comforts of his children, 
fancies ; the travel and labor of pilgrims, things to no 
purpose. 

Nay, said Christiana, if they were such, they shall 
never be bewailed by me : they have but what they 
deserve; and 1 think it is well that they stand so near 
the highway, that others may see and take warning. 
But had it not been well if their crimes had been 
engraven in some plate of iron or brass, and left here 
where they did their mischiefs, for a caution to other 
bad men? 

Great. So it is, as you may well perceive, if you 
will go a little to the wall. 

Mer. No, no ; let them hang and their names rot, 
and their crimes live forever against them. I think it 
a high favor that they were hanged before we came 
hither: who knows else what they might have done to 



258 THE TWO BY-WAYS. 

such poor women as we are. Then she turned it into 
a song, saying : 

Now then you three hang there, and be a sign 
To all that shall against the truth combine. 
And let him that comes after, fear this end, 
If unto pilgrims he is not a friend. 
And thou, my soul, of all such men beware, 
That unto holiness opposers are. 

Thus they went on till they came to the foot of the 
hill Difficulty, where again the good Mr. Great-Heart 
took an occasion to tell them what happened there 
when Christian himself went by. So he had them first 
to the spring. Lo, saith he, this is the spring that 
Christian drank of before he went up this hill : and 
then it was clear and good ; but now it is dirty with 
the feet of some that are not desirous that pilgrims 
here should quench their thirst, Ezek., xxxiv., 18, 19. 
Thereat Mercy said, And why so envious, trow? But, 
said the guide, it will do if taken up and put into a 
vessel that is sweet and good ; for then the dirt will 
sink to the bottom, and the water come , out by itself 
more clear. Thus therefore Christiana and her com- 
panions were compelled to do. They took it up, and 
put it into an earthen pot, and so let it stand till the 
dirt was gone to the bottom, and then they drank 
thereof. 

Next he showed them the two by-ways that were at 
the foot of the hill, where Formality and Hypocrisy 
lost themselves. And, said he, these are dangerous 
paths. Two were here cast away when Christian came 
by ; and although, as you see, these ways are since 
stopped up with chains, posts, and a ditch, yet there 
are those that will choose to adventure here rather 
than take the pains to go up this hill. 



THE ARBOR ON THE HILL. 259 

Chr. " The way of transgressors is hard," Prov., 
xiii., 15. It is a wonder that they can get into these 
ways without danger of breaking their necks. 

Great. They will venture ; yea, if at any time any 
of the King's servants do happen to see them, and do 
call upon them, and tell them that they are in the 
wrong way, and do bid them beware of the danger; 
then they will railingly return them answer, and say, 
" As for the word that thou hast spoken unto us in the 
name of the King, we will not hearken unto thee ; but 
we will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth out of our 
mouths," Jer., xliv., 16, 17. Nay, if you look a little 
further, you will see that these ways are made caution- 
ary enough, not only by these posts, and ditch, and 
chain, but also by being hedged up : yet they will 
choose to go there. 

Chr. They are idle ; they love not to take pains ; 
up-hill way is unpleasant to them. So it is fulfilled 
unto them as it is written, "The way of the slothful 
man is as a hedge of thorns," Prov., xv., 19. Yea, 
they will rather choose to walk upon a snare, than go 
up this hill, and the rest of this way to the city. 

Then they set forward, and began to go up the hill, 
and up the hill they went. But before they got to the 
top, Christiana began to pant, and said, I dare say this 
is a breathing hill ; no marvel if they that love their 
ease more than their souls choose to themselves a 
smoother way. Then said Mercy, I must sit down: 
also the least of the children began to cry. Come, 
come, said Great-Heart, sit not down here ; for a little 
above is the Prince's arbor. Then he took the little 
boy by the hand, and led him up thereto. 

When they were come to the arbor they were very 
willing to sit down, for they were all in a pelting heat. 



260 THE PILGRIMS REFRESHED. 

Then said Mercy, " How sweet is rest to them that 
labor," Matt., xi., 28; and how good is the Prince of 
pilgrims to provide such resting places for them ! Of 
this arbor I have heard much ; but I never saw it 
before. But here let us beware of sleeping; for, as I 
have heard, it cost poor Christian dear. 

Then said Mr. Great-Heart to the little ones, Come, 
my pretty boys, how do you do? what think you now 
of going on pilgrimage? Sir, said the least, I was 
almost beat out of heart; but I thank you for lending 
me a hand, at my need. And I remember now what 
my mother hath told me, namely, that the way to 
heaven is as a ladder, and the way to hell is as down a 
hill. But I had rather go up the ladder to life, than 
down the hill to death. 

Then said Mercy, But the proverb is, To go down 
the hill is easy. But James said (for that was his 
name), The day is coming when, in my opinion, going 
down the hill will be the hardest of all. That's a 
good boy, said his master ; thou hast given her a right 
answer. Then Mercy smiled, but the little boy did 
blush. 

Come, said Christiana, will you eat a bit, a little 
to sweeten your mouths while you sit here to rest 
your legs? for I have here a piece of pomegranate, 
which Mr. Interpreter put into my hand just when I 
came out of his door : he gave me also a piece of a 
honeycomb, and a little bottle of spirits. I thought he 
gave you something, said Mercy, because he called you 
aside. Yes, so he did, said the other; but, said Chris- 
tiana, it shall be still as I said it should, when at first 
we came from home ; thou shalt be a sharer in all the 
good that I have, because thou so willingly didst 
become my companion. Then she gave to them, and 



CHRISTIANA FORGETS HER BOTTLE OF SPIRITS. 26l 

they did eat, both Mercy and the boys. And, said 
Christiana to Mr. Great-Heart, sir, will you do as we? 
But he answered, You are going on pilgrimage, and 
presently I shall return ; much good may what you 
have do to you : at home I eat the same every day. 
Now when they had eaten and drank, and had chatted 
a little longer, their guide said to them, The day wears 
away; if you think good, let us prepare to be going. 
So they got up to go, and the little boys went before ; 
but Christiana forgot to take her bottle of spirits with 
her, so she sent her little boy back to fetch it. Then 
said Mercy, I think this is a losing place ; here Chris- 
tian lost his roll, and here Christiana left her bottle 
behind her: sir, what is the cause of this? So their 
guide made answer, and said, The cause is sleep, or 
forgetfulness : some sleep when they should keep 
awake, and some forget when they should remember ; 
and this is the very cause why often at the resting- 
places some pilgrims, in some things, come off losers. 
Pilgrims should watch, and remember what they have 
already received, under their greatest enjoyments ; but 
for want of doing so, oft-times their rejoicing ends in 
tears and their sunshine in a cloud ; witness the story 
of Christian at this place. 

When they were come to the place where Mistrust 
and Timorous met Christian, to persuade him to go 
back for fear of the lions, they perceived as it were a 
stage, and before it, toward the road a broad plate 
with a copy of verses written thereon, and underneath 
the reason of raising up that stage in that place ren- 
dered. The verses were these : 

Let him that sees this stage, take heed 

Unto his heart and tongue; 
Lest, if he do not, here he speed 

As some have long agone. 



262 GRIM, THE GIANT, AND THE LIONS. 

The words underneath the verses were, " This stage 
was built to punish those upon, who, through timor- 
ousness or mistrust, shall be afraid to go further on 
pilgrimage. Also, on this stage both Mistrust and 
Timorous were burned through the tongue with a hot 
iron, for endeavoring to hinder Christian on his jour- 
ney. 11 

Then said Mercy, This is much like to the saying of 
the Beloved, " What shall be given unto thee, or what 
shall be done unto thee, thou false tongue? Sharp 
arrows of the mighty, with coals of juniper, Ps. cxx., 

3, 4- 

So they went on till they came within sight of the 
lions. Now Mr. Great-Heart was a strong man, so he 
was not afraid of a lion. But yet when they were come 
up to the place where the lions were, the boys, that 
went before, were now glad to cringe behind, for they 
were afraid of the lions ; so they stepped back, and 
went behind. At this their guide smiled, and said, 
How now, my boys, do you love to go before when no 
danger doth approach, and love to come behind so 
soon as the lions appear? 

Now as they went on Mr. Great-Heart drew his sword, 
with intent to make a way for the pilgrims in spite of 
the lions. Then there appeared one that, it seems, had 
taken upon him to back the lions ; and he said to the 
pilgrims 1 guide, What is the cause of your coming 
hither? Now the name of that man was Grim, or 
Bloody-Man, because of his slaying of pilgrims ; and 
he was of the race of the giants. 

Then said the pilgrims' guide, These women and 
children are going on pilgrimage, and this is the way 
they must go ; and go they shall in spite of thee and 
the lions. 



GRIM BACKS THE LIONS — IS SLAIN. 263 

Grim. This is not their way, neither shall they go 
therein. I am come forth to withstand them, and to 
that end will back the lions. 

Now, to say truth, by reason of the fierceness of the 
lions, and of the grim carriage of him that did back 
them, this way of late had been much unoccupied, and 
was almost all grown over with grass. 

Then said Christiana, Though the highways have 
been unoccupied heretofore, and though the travellers 
have been made in times past to walk through by-ways, 
it must not be so now I am risen, now I am arisen a 
mother in Israel, Judges, ix., 7. 

Then he swore by the lions that it should, and 
therefore bid them turn aside, for they should not 
have passage there. 

But Great-Heart, their guide, made first his approach 
unto Grim, and laid so heavily at him with his sword, 
that he forced him to a retreat. 

Then said he that attempted to back the lions, Will 
you slay me upon my own ground? 

Great. It is the King's highway that we are in, 
and in his way it is that thou hast placed the lions ; 
but these women, and these children, though weak, 
shall hold on their way in spite of thy lions. And with 
that he gave him again a downright blow, and brought 
him upon his knees. With this blow also he broke his 
helmet, and with the next he cut off an arm. Then 
did the giant roar so hideously that his voice fright- 
ened the women, and yet they were glad to see him 
lie sprawling upon the ground. Now the lions were 
chained, and so of themselves could do nothing. 
Wherefore, when old Grim, that attended to back them, 
was dead, Mr. Great-Heart said to the pilgrims, Come 
now, and follow me, and no hurt shall happen to you 



264 THEY REACH THE PORTER'S LODGE. 

from the lions. They therefore went on, but the 
women trembled as they passed by them ; the boys 
also looked as if they would die ; but they all got by 
without further hurt. 

Now when they were within sight of the Porters 
lodge, they soon came up unto it, but they made the 
more haste after this to go thither, because it is 
dangerous travelling there in the night. So when they 
were come to the gate the guide knocked, and the 
Porter cried, Who is there? but as soon as the guide 
had said, It is I, he knew his voice, and came down, 
for the guide had oft before that come thither as a con- 
ductor of pilgrims. When he was come down he opened 
the gate ; and seeing the guide standing just before it 
(for he saw not the women, for they were behind him), 
he said unto him, How now, Mr. Great-Heart. What is 
your business here so late to-night ? I have brought, 
answered he, some pilgrims hither, where, by my 
Lord's commandment, they must lodge : I had been 
here some time ago, had I not been opposed by the 
giant that did use to back the lions. But I, after a 
long and tedious combat with him, have cut him off, 
and have brought the pilgrims hither in safety. 

Por. Will you not go in, and stay till morning? 

Great. No, I will return to my Lord to-night. 

Chr. O, sir, I know not how to be willing you 
should leave us in our pilgrimage, you have -been so 
faithful and so loving to us ; you have fought so stoutly 
for us, you have been so hearty in counselling of us, 
that I shall never forget your favor toward us. 

Then said Mercy, O that we might have thy com- 
pany to our journey's end ! How can such poor women 
as we hold out in a way so full of troubles as this way 
is, without a friend and defender? 



GREAT-HEART LEAVES THEM. 265 

Then said James, the youngest of the boys, Pray, sir, 
be persuaded to go with us, and help us, because we 
are so weak, and the way so dangerous as it is. 

Great. I am at my Lord's commandment, if he shall 
allot me to be your guide quite through, I will willingly 
wait upon you. Bat here you failed at first; for when 
he bid me come thus far with you, then you should 
have begged me of him to go quite through with you, 
and he would have granted your request. However, 
at present I must withdraw ; and so, good Christiana, 
Mercy, and my brave children, adieu. 

Then the Porter, Mr. Watchful, asked Christiana of 
her country, and of her kindred. And she said, I 
come from the city of Destruction. I am a widow 
woman, and my husband is dead ; his name was Chris- 
tian, the pilgrim. How ! said the Porter, was he your 
husband? Yes, said she, and these are his children; 
and this, pointing to Mercy, is one of my towns-women. 
Then the Porter rang his bell, as at such times he is 
wont, and there came to the door one of the damsels, 
whose name was Humble-Mind ; and of her the Porter 
said, Go tell it within that Christiana, the wife of Chris- 
tian, and her children, are come hither on pilgrimage. 
She went in therefore, and told it. But oh, what noise 
for gladness was there within when the damsel did but 
drop that word out of her mouth ! 

So they came with haste to the Porter, for Christiana 
stood still at the door. Then some of the most grave 
said unto her, Come in, Christiana, come in, thou wife 
of that good man; come in, thou blessed woman, 
come in, with all that are with thee. So she went in, 
and they followed her that were her children and com- 
panions. Now when they were gone in, they were had 
into a very large room, where they were bidden to sit 



266 THE PILGRIM^ ENTERTAINED. 

down : so they sat down, and the chief of the house were 
called to see and welcome the guests. Then they came 
in, and understanding who they were, did salute each 
one with a -kiss, and said, Welcome, ye vessels of the 
grace of God ; welcome to us, your friends. 

Now, because it was somewhat late, and because the 
pilgrims were weary with their journey, and also made 
faint with the sight of the fight, and of the terrible 
lions, therefore they desired, as soon as might be, 
to prepare to go to rest. Nay, said those of the 
family, refresh yourselves first with a morsel of 
meat ; for they had prepared for them a lamb, with 
the accustomed sauce belonging thereto, Exod., xii., 
21 ; John, i., 29, for the Porter had heard before of 
their coming, and had told it to them within. So when 
they had supped, and ended their prayer with a 
psalm, they desired they might go to rest. But let us, 
said Christiana, if we may be so bold as to choose, be 
in that chamber that was my husband's when he was 
here ; so they had them up thither, and they lay all in 
a room. When they were at rest, Christiana and 
Mercy entered into discourse about things that were 
convenient. 

Chr. Little did I think once, when my husband 
went on pilgrimage, that I should ever have followed. 

Mer. And you as little thought of lying in his bed, 
and in his chamber to rest, as you do now. 

Chr. And much less did I ever think of seeing his 
face with comfort, and of worshipping the Lord, the 
King, with him ; and yet now I believe I shall. 

Mer. Hark ! don't you hear a noise? 

Chr. Yes, it is, as I believe, a noise of music, for joy 
that we are here. 

Mer. Wonderful ! Music in the house, music in the 



mercy's dream. 267 

heart, and music also in heaven, for joy that we are 
here ! 

Thus they talked awhile, and then betook themselves 
to sleep. 

So in the morning when they were awake, Christiana 
said to Mercy, What was the matter that you did laugh 
in your sleep to-night ? I suppose you were in a dream. 

Mer. So 1 was, and a sweet dream it was ; but are 
you sure I laughed ? 

Chr. Yes, you laughed heartily ; but prithee, Mercy, 
tell me thy dream. 

Mer. 1 was dreaming that I sat all alone in a soli- 
tary place, and was bemoaning of the hardness of my 
heart. Now I had not sat there long, but methought 
many were gathered about me to see me, and to hear 
what it was that I said. So they hearkened, and I 
went on bemoaning the hardness of my heart. At this 
some of them laughed at me, some called me fool, 
and some began to thrust me about. With that, me- 
thought 1 looked up and saw one coming with wings 
toward me. So he came directly to me, and said, 
Mercy, what aileth thee ? Now when he had heard me 
make my complaint, he said, Peace be to thee ; he 
also wiped my eyes with his handkerchief, and clad me in 
silver and gold, Ezek., xvi., 8-1 1. He put a chain 
about my neck, and ear-rings in my ears, and a beauti- 
ful crown upon my head. Then he took me by the 
hand, and said, Mercy, come after me. So he went 
up, and I followed till we came at a golden gate. 
Then he knocked ; and when they within had opened, 
the man went in, and f followed him up to a throne, 
upon which one sat ; and he said to me, Welcome, 
daughter. The place looked bright and twinkling, like 
the stars, or rather like the sun, and I thought that I 



268 mercy's dream. 

saw your husband there : so I awoke from my dream. 
But did I laugh ? 

Chr. Laugh ! ay, and well you might to see your- 
self so well. For you must give me leave to tell you, 
that 1 believe it was a good dream ; and that as you 
have begun to find the first part true, so you shall find 
the second at last. " God speaks once, yea, twice, 
yet man perceiveth it not ; in a dream, in a vision of 
the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumber- 
ings upon the bed," Job, xxxiii., 14, 15. We need not, 
when a-bed, to lie awake to talk with God ; he can 
visit us while we sleep, and cause us then to hear his 
voice. Our heart oftentimes wakes when we sleep, and 
God can speak to that, either by words, by proverbs, 
or by signs and similitudes, as well as if one was 
awake. 

Mer. Well, I am glad of my dream ; for I hope ere 
long to see it fulfilled, to the making me laugh again. 

Chr. I think it is now time to rise, and to know 
what we must do. 

Mer. Pray, if they invite us to stay a while, let us 
willingly accept of the proffer. I am the more willing 
to stay a while here, to grow better acquainted with 
these maids : methinks Prudence, Piety, and Charity, 
have very comely and sober countenances. 

Chr. We shall see what they will do. 

So when they were up and ready, they came down, 
and they asked one another of their rest, and if it was 
comfortable or not. 

Very good, said Mercy : it was one of the best 
night's lodgings that ever I had in my life. 

Then said Prudence and Piety, If you will be per- 
suaded to stay here a while, you shall have what the 
house will afford. 



THE PILGRIMS STAY SOME TIME. 269 

Ay, and that with a very good will, said Chanty. 
So they consented, and stayed there about a month, 
or above, and became very profitable one to 
another. And because Prudence would see how 
Christiana had brought up her children, she asked 
leave of her to catechise them. So she gave her free 
consent. Then she began with the youngest, whose 
name was James. 

Prud. And she said, Come, James,, canst thou tell 
me who made thee? 

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the 
Holy Ghost. 

Prud. Good boy. And canst thou tell who saves 
thee ? 

James. God the Father, God the Son, and God the 
Holy Ghost. 

Prud. Good boy still. But how doth God the 
Father save thee? 

James. By his grace. 

Prud. How doth God the Son save thee? 

James. By his righteousness, death and blood, and 
life. 

Prud. How doth God the Holy Ghost save thee? 

James. By his illumination, his renovation, and his 
preservation. 

Then said Prudence to Christiana, You are to be 
commended for thus bringing up your children. I 
suppose I need not ask the rest these questions, since 
the youngest of them can answer them so well. I will 
therefore now apply myself to the next youngest. 

Then she said, Come, Joseph (for his name was 
Joseph), will you let me catechise you? 

Joseph. With all my heart. 

Prud. What is man? 



270 THE CHILDREN CATECHISED. 

Joseph. A .reasonable creature, so made by God, as 
my brother said. 

Prud. What is supposed by this word, saved? 

Joseph. That man, by sin, has brought himself into 
a state of captivity and misery. 

Prud. What is supposed by his being saved by the 
Trinity? 

Joseph. That sin is so great and mighty a tyrant 
that none can pull us out of its clutches but God ; and 
that God is so good and loving to man, as to pull him 
indeed out of this miserable state. 

Prud. What is God's design in saving poor men? 

Joseph. The glorifying of his name, of his grace, 
and justice, etc., and the everlasting happiness of his 
creature. 

Prud. Who are they that will be saved? 

Joseph. They that accept of his salvation. 

Prud. Good boy, Joseph ; thy mother hath taught 
thee well, and thou hast hearkened unto what she has 
said unto thee. 

Then said Prudence to Samuel, who was the eldest 
son but one : 

Come, Samuel, are you willing that I should cate- 
chise you? 

Sam. Yes, forsooth, if you please. 

Prud. What is heaven? 

Sam. A place and state most blessed, because God 
dwelleth there. 

Prud. What is hell? 

Sam. A place and state most woful, because it is 
the dwelling-place of sin, the devil, and death. 

Prud. Why wouldst thou go to heaven? 

Sam. That I may see God, and serve him without 
weariness ; that I may see Christ, and love him ever- 



THE CHILDREN CATECHISED. 27I 

lastingly ; that I may have that fulness of the Holy 
Spirit in me which I can by no means here enjoy. 

Prud. A very good boy also, and one that has 
learned well. 

Then she addressed herself to the eldest, whose 
name was Matthew ; and she said to him, Come, Mat- 
thew, shall I also catechise you ? 

Matt. With a very good will. 

Prud. I ask then, if there was ever anything that 
had a being antecedent to, or before God. 

Matt. No, for God is eternal ; nor is there any- 
thing, excepting himself, that had a being, until the be- 
ginning of the first day. For in six days the Lord 
made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them 
is. 

Prud. What do you think of the Bible? 

Matt. It is the holy word of God. 

Prud. Is there nothing written therein but what you 
understand? 

Matt. Yes, a great deal. 

Prud. What do you do when you meet with such 
places therein that you do not understand? 

Matt. I think God is wiser than I. I pray also 
that he will please to let me know all therein that he 
knows will be for my good. 

Prud. How believe you as touching the resurrection 
of the dead? 

Matt. I believe they shall rise the same that was 
buried ; the same in nature, though not in corruption. 
And I believe this upon a double account : first, because 
God has promised it ; secondly, because he is able to 
perform it. 

Then said Prudence to the boys, You must still 
hearken to your mother; for she can teach you more. 



272 CLOSING REMARKS BY PRUDENCE. 

You must also diligently give ear to what good talk you 
shall hear from others ; for, for your sakes do they 
speak good things. Observe also, and that with care- 
fulness, what the heavens and the earth do teach you ; 
but especially be much in the meditation of that book 
which was the cause of your father's becoming a pilgrim. 
I, for my part, my children, will teach you what I can 
while you are here, and shall be glad if you will ask me 
questions that tend to godly edifying. 

Now by that these pilgrims had been at this place a 
week, Mercy had a visitor that pretended some good 
will unto her, and his name was Mr. Brisk ; a man of 
some breeding, and that pretended to religion, but a 
man that stuck very close to the world. So he came 
once, or twice, or more, to Mercy, and offered love unto 
her. Now Mercy was of a fair countenance, and there- 
fore the more alluring. 

Her mind also was to be always busying of herself in 
doing ; for when she had nothing to do for herself, she 
would be making hose and garments for others, and 
would bestow them upon those that had need. And 
Mr. Brisk, not knowing where or how she disposed of 
what she made, seemed to be greatly taken, for that 
he found her never idle. I will warrant her a good 
housewife, quoth he to himself. 

Mercy then revealed the business to the maidens 
that were of the house, and inquired of them concern- 
ing him, for they did know him better than she. So 
they told her that he was a very busy young man, and 
one who pretended to religion, but was, as they feared, 
a stranger to the power of that which is good. 

Nay then, said Mercy, I will look no more on him ; 
for I purpose never to have a clog to my soul. 

Prudence then replied, that there needed no great 



TALK BETWIXT MR. BRISK AND MERCY. 273 

matter of discouragement to be given to him ; her con- 
tinuing so as she had begun to do for the poor would 
quickly cool his courage. 

So the next time he came he finds her at her old 
work, making things for the poor. Then said he, 
What ! always at it? Yes, said she, either for myself 
or for others. And what canst thou earn a day? said 
he. I do these things, replied she, that I may be rich 
in good works, laying up in store for myself a good 
foundation against the time to come, that I may hold 
on eternal life, 1 Tim., vi., 17-19. Why, pr'ythee, 
what dost thou with them? said he. — Clothe the 
naked, said she. With that his countenance fell. So 
he forebore to come to her again. And when he was 
asked the reason why, he said, that Mercy was a pretty 
lass, but troubled with ill conditions. 

When he had left her, Prudence said, Did I not tell 
thee that Mr. Brisk would soon forsake thee? yea, he 
will raise up an ill report of thee ; for, notwithstanding 
his pretence to religion, and his seeming love to Mercy, 
yet Mercy and he are of tempers so different that I 
believe they will never come together. 

Mer. I might have had husbands before now, 
though I spoke not of it to any ; but they were such as 
did not like my conditions, though never did any of 
them find fault with my person. So they and I could 
not agree. 

Prud. Mercy in our days is little set by any further 
than as to its name : the practice, which is set forth by 
thy conditions, there are but few that can abide. 

Well, said Mercy, if nobody will have me, I will die 
unmarried, or my conditions shall be to me as a husband ; 
for I cannot change my nature : and to have one who 
lies cross to me in this, that I purpose never to admit 



274 MR- BRISK LEAVES MERCY. 

of as long as I live. I had a sister named Bountiful 
that was married to one of these churls, but he and she 
could never agree ; but because my sister was resolved 
to do as she had begun, that is, to show kindness to 
the poor, therefore her husband first cried her down at 
the cross, and then turned her out of his doors. 

Prud. And yet he was a professor, I warrant you? 

Mer. Yes, such a one as he was, and of such as he 
the world is now full : but I am for none of them 
all. 

Now Matthew, the eldest son of Christiana, fell sick, 
and his sickness was sore upon him, for he was much 
pained in his bowels, so that he was with it at times 
pulled, as it were, both ends together. There dwelt 
also not far from thence one Mr. Skill, an ancient and 
well-approved physician. So Christiana desired it, and 
they sent for him, and he came. When he was entered 
the room, and had a little observed the boy, he con- 
cluded that he was sick of the gripes. Then he said 
to his mother, What diet has Matthew of late fed 
upon? Diet! said Christiana, nothing but what is 
wholesome. — The physician answered, This boy has 
been tampering with something that lies in his stomach 
undigested, and that will not away without means. 
And I tell you he must be purged, or else he will die. 

Then said Samuel, Mother what was that which my 
brother did gather and eat as soon as we were come from 
the gate that is at the head of this way? You know 
that there was an orchard on the left hand, on the 
other side of the wall, and some of the trees hung over 
the wall, and my brother did pluck and eat. 

True, my child, said Christiana, he did take thereof 
and did eat : naughty boy as he was, I chid him and 
yet he would eat thereof. 



MATTHEW FALLS SICK — THE GRIPES. 275 

Skill. I knew he had eaten something that was not 
wholesome food ; and that food, to wit, that fruit, 
is ever the most hurtful of all. It is fruit of Beel- 
zebub's orchard. I do marvel that none did warn you 
of it ; many have died thereof. 

Then Christiana began to cry; and she said, Oh, 
naughty boy ! and Oh, careless mother ! what shall I 
do for my son ? 

Skill. Come, do not be too much dejected : the 
boy may do well again, but he must purge and vomit. 

Chr. Pray, sir, try the utmost of.your skill with him, 
whatever it costs. 

Skill. Nay, I hope I shall be reasonable. So he 
made him a purge, but it was too weak ; it was said it 
was made of the blood of a goat, the ashes of a heifer 
and some of the juice of hyssop, Heb., ix., 13, 19; x., 
1-4. When Mr. Skill had seen that that purge was too 
weak, he made him one to the purpose. It was made 
ex came et sanguine Christi x John, vi., 54-57; Heb., 
ix., 14; (you know physicians give strange medicines 
to their patients ;) and it was made into pills, with 
a promise or two, and a proportionable quantity of 
salt, Mark, ix., 49. Now he was to take them three 
at a time, fasting, in half a quarter of a pint of the 
tears of repentance, Zech., xii., 10. 

When this potion was prepared, and brought to the 
boy, he was loth to take it, though torn with the gripes 
as if he should be pulled in pieces. Come, come, said 
the physician, you must take it. It goes against my 
stomach, said the boy. I must have you take it, said 
his mother. I shall vomit it up again, said the boy. 
Pray, sir, said Christiana to Mr. Skill, how does it 
taste? It has no ill taste, said the doctor; and with 
1 Of the flesh and blood of Christ. 



276 THE POWERFUL MEDICINE MR. SKILL GIVES HIM. 

that she touched one of the pills with the tip of her 
tongue. Oh, Matthew, said she, this potion is sweeter 
than honey. If thou lovest thy mother, if thou lovest 
thy brothers, if thou lovest Mercy, if thou lovest thy 
life, take it. So, with much ado, after a short prayer 
for the blessing of God upon it, he took it, and it 
wrought kindly with him. It caused him to purge ; it 
caused him to sleep and rest quietly ; it put him into a 
fine heat and breathing sweat, and did quite rid him of 
his gripes. So in a little time he got up, and walked 
about with a staff, and would go from room to room, 
and talked with Prudence, Piety, and Charity, of his 
distemper, and how he was healed. 

So when the boy was healed, Christiana asked Mr. 
Skill, saying, Sir, what will content you for your pains 
and care to and of my child? And he said, You must 
pay the Master of the College of Physicians, Heb., 
xiii., 1 1— 1 5 : according to rules made in that case and 
provided. 

But, sir, said she, what is this pill good for else ? 

Skill. It is a universal pill ; it is good against all 
diseases that pilgrims are incident to ; and when it is 
well prepared it will keep good, time out of mind. 

Chr. Pray, sir, make me up twelve boxes of them ; 
for if I can get these, I will never take other physic. 

Skill. These pills are good to prevent diseases, as 
well as to cure when one is sick. Yea, I dare say it, 
and stand to it, that if a man will but use this physic 
as he should, it will make him live forever, John, vi., 
58. But good Christiana, thou must give these pills 
no other way than as 1 have prescribed ; for if you do, 
they will do no good. 

So he gave unto Christiana physic for herself, and 
her boys, and for Mercy : and bid Matthew take heed 



MATTHEW RESTORED — THE UNIVERSAL PILL. 2J7 

how he ate any more green plums, and kissed them, 
and went his way. 

It was told you before, that Prudence bid the boys, 
if at any time they would, they should ask her some 
questions that might be profitable, and she would say 
something to them. 

Then Matthew, who had been sick, asked her, why 
for the most part physic should be bitter to our palates. 

Prud. To show how unwelcome the word of God 
and the effects thereof are to a carnal heart. 

Matt. Why does physic, if it does good, purge, 
and cause to vomit? 

Prud. To show that the word, when it works effect- 
ually, cleanseth the heart and mind. For look, what 
the one doth to the body, the other doth to the soul. 

Matt. What should we learn by seeing the flame 
of our fire go upward, and by seeing the beams and 
sweet influences of the sun strike downward? 

Prud. By the going up of the fire we are taught to 
ascend to heaven by fervent and hot desires. And by 
the sun sending his heat, beams, and sweet influences 
downward, we are taught that the Saviour of the world, 
though high, reacheth down with his grace and love to 
us below. 

Matt. Where have the clouds their water? 

Prud. Out of the sea. 

Matt. What may we learn from that? 

Prud. That ministers should fetch their doctrine 
from God. 

Matt. Why do they empty themselves upon the 
earth ? 

Prud. To show that ministers should give out what 
they know of God to the world. 

Matt. Why is the rainbow caused by the sun? 



278 TALK OF PRUDENCE AND MATTHEW. 

Prud. To show that the covenant of God's grace is 
confirmed to us in Christ. 

Matt. Why do the springs come from the sea to us 
through the earth? 

Prud. To show that the grace of God comes to us 
through the body of Christ. 

Matt. Why do some of the springs rise out of the 
tops of high hills ? 

Prud. To show that the spirit of grace shall spring 
up in some that are great and mighty, as well as in 
many that are poor and low. 

Matt. Why doth the fire fasten upon the candle- 
wick? 

Prud. To show that unless grace doth kindle upon 
the heart, there will be no true light of life in us. 

Matt. Why are the wick, and tallow and all, spent 
to maintain the light of the candle ? 

Prud. To show that body and soul, and all, should 
be at the service of, and spend themselves to maintain 
in good condition, that grace of God that is in us. 

Matt. Why doth the pelican pierce her own breast 
with her bill? 

Prud. To nourish her young ones with her blood, 
and thereby to show that Christ the blessed so loveth 
his young, his people, as to save them from death 
by his blood. 

Matt. What may one learn by hearing the cock to 
crow ? 

Prud. Learn to remember Peter's sin, and Peter's 
repentance. The cock's crowing shows also, that day 
is coming on : let, then, the crowing of the cock put 
thee in mind of that last and terrible day of judgment. 

Now about this time their month was out, wherefore 
they signified to those of the house, that 'twas conven- 



PETITION SENT FOR GREAT-HEART. 279 

ient for them to up and be going. Then said Joseph 
to his mother, It is proper that you forget not to send 
to the house of Mr. Interpreter, to pray him to grant 
that Air. Great-Heart should be sent unto us, that he 
may be our conductor the rest of our way. Good boy, 
said she, I had almost forgot. So she drew up a peti- 
tion and prayed Mr. Watchful, the porter, to send it by 
some fit man to her good friend Mr. Interpreter ; who, 
when it was come, and he had seen the contents of the 
petition, said to the messenger, Go, tell them that I 
will send him. 

When the family where Christiana was saw that they 
had a purpose to go forward, they called the whole 
house together to give thanks to their King for send- 
ing of them such profitable guests as these. Which 
done, they said unto Christiana, And shall we not show 
thee something as our custom is to do to pilgrims, on 
which thou mayest meditate when thou art upon the 
way? So they took Christiana, her children and Mercy, 
into the closet, and showed them one of the apples 
that Eve ate of, and that which she also did give to 
her husband, and that for the eating of which they 
were both turned out of paradise, and asked her what 
she thought that was. Then Christiana said, It is food 
or poison, I know not which. So they opened the 
matter to her, and she held up her hands and won- 
dered, Gen., iii., 6; Rom., vii., 24. 

Then they had her to a place and showed her Jacob's 
ladder, Gen., xxviii., 12. Now at that time there were 
some angels ascending upon it. So Christiana looked 
and looked to see the angels go up ; so did the rest of 
the company. Then they were going into another 
place, to show them something else ; but James said 
to his mother, Pray bid them stay here a little longer, 



280 THE SIGHTS SHOWN TO THE PILGRIMS. 

for this is a curious sight. So they turned again, and 
stood feeding their eyes with this so pleasing a pros- 
pect, John, i., 15. 

After this they had them into a place where did hang 
up a golden anchor. So they bid Christiana take it 
down ; for, said they, You shall have it with you, for 
it is of absolute necessity, that you may lay hold of that 
within the veil, Heb., vi., 19; and stand steadfast in 
case you should meet with turbulent weather, Joel, 
iii., 16; so they were glad thereof. 

Then they took them, and had them to the mount 
upon which Abraham our father offered up Isaac his son, 
and showed them the altar, the wood, the fire, and the 
knife, for they remain to be seen to this very day, Gen., 
xxii., 9. When they had seen it, they held up their 
hands, and blessed themselves, and said, Oh ! what a 
man for love to his Master, and for denial to himself, 
was Abraham ! 

After they had showed them all these things, Pru- 
dence took them into a dining-room, where stood a 
pair of excellent virginals ; so she played upon them, 
and turned what she had showed them into this excel- 
lent song, saying : 

Eve's apple we have showed you ; 

Of that be you aware : 
You have seen Jacob's ladder too, 

Upon which angels are. 
An anchor you received have ; 

But let not these suffice, 
Until with Abra'm you have gave 

Your best a sacrifice. 

Now about this time one knocked at the door. So 
the Porter opened, and behold, Mr. Great-Heart was 
there: but when he was come in, what joy was there! 



MR. GREAT-HEART COMES AGAIN. 28 1 

For it came now afresh again into their minds how but a 
little while ago he had slain old Grim Bloody-man, the 
giant, and had delivered them from the lions. 

Then said Mr. Great-Heart, to Christiana and to 
Mercy, My Lord has sent each of you a bottle of wine, 
and also some parched corn, together with a couple of 
pomegranates : he has also sent the boys some figs and 
raisins, to refresh you in your way. 

Then they addressed themselves to their journey, and 
Prudence and Piety went along with them. When 
they came to the gate, Christiana asked the Porter if 
any of late went by. He said, No ; only one some time 
since, who also told me, that of late there had been a 
great robbery committed on the King's highway as you 
go. But, said he, the thieves are taken, and will 
shortly be tried for their lives. Then Christiana and 
Mercy were afraid ; but Matthew said, Mother, fear 
nothing as long as Mr. Great-Heart is to go with us, 
and to be our conductor. 

Then said Christiana to the Porter, Sir, I am much 
obliged to you for all the kindnesses that you have 
showed me since I came hither ; and also for that you 
have been so loving and kind to my children. I know 
not how to gratify your kindness ; wherefore, pray, as 
a token of my respect to you, accept of this small mite. 
So she put a gold angel 1 in his hand ; and he made 
her a low obeisance, and said, Let thy garments be 
always white ; and let thy head want no ointment. 
Eccies., ix., 8. Let Mercy live and not die, and let not 
her works be few, Deut., xxxiii., 6. And to the boys 
he said, Do you fly youthful lusts, and follow after 

1 A gold angel was a coin of the value of ten shillings sterling, 
and according to the comparative value of money in Bunyan's time, 
equal at least to a guinea at the present time. 



282 THE PILGRIMS GO ON THEIR JOURNEY. 

godliness with them that are grave and wise, 2 Tim., 
ii., 22; so shall you put gladness into your mother's 
heart, and obtain praise of all that are sober-minded. 
So they thanked the Porter and departed. 

Now I saw in my dream that they went forward until 
they were come to the brow of the hill ; where Piety be- 
thinking herself, cried out, Alas ! I have forgot what I 
intended to bestow upon Christiana and her companions : 
I will go back and fetch it. So she ran and fetched it. 
While she was gone Christiana thought she heard in a 
grove a little way off on the right hand, a most curious 
melodious note, with words much like these : 

Through all my life thy favor is 

So frankly show'd to me, 
That in thy house for ever more 

My dwelling-place shall be. 

And listening still, she thought she heard another 
answer it, saying : 

For why ? The Lord our God is good ; 

His Mercy is forever sure ; 
His truth at all times firmly stood, 

And shall from age to age endure. 

So Christiana asked Prudence who it was that made 
those curious notes, Song, ii., 11, 12. They are, 
answered she, our country birds : they sing these notes 
but seldom, except it be at the spring, when the flowers 
appear, and the sun shines warm, and then you may 
hear them all day long. I often, said she, go out to 
hear them ; we also ofttimes keep them tame in 
our house. They are very fine company for us when 
we are melancholy : also they make the woods, and 
groves, and solitary places, desirous to be in. 



piety's present. 283 

By this time Piety was come again. So she said to 
Christiana, Look here, I have brought thee a scheme of 
all those things that thou hast seen at our house, upon 
which thou mayest look when thou findest thyself for- 
getful, and call those things again to remembrance, 
for thy edification and comfort. 

Now they began to go down the hill into the Valley 
of Humiliation. It was a steep hill, and the way was 
slippery ; but they were very careful ; so they got down 
pretty well. When they were down in the valley Piety 
said to Christiana, This is the place where Christian, 
your husband, met with that foul fiend Apollyon, and 
where they had that dreadful fight that they had : I 
know you cannot but have heard thereof. But be of 
good courage ; as long as you have here Mr. Great- 
Heart to be your guide and conductor, we hope you 
will fare the better. So when these two had committed 
the pilgrims unto the conduct of their guide, he went 
forward, and they went after. 

Then said Mr. Great-Heart, We need not be so afraid 
of this valley, for here is nothing to hurt us, unless we 
procure it to ourselves. It is true that Christian here 
did meet with Apollyon, with whom he had also a sore 
combat : but that fray was the fruit of those slips 
which he got in his going down the hill ; for they that 
get slips there, must look for combats here. And 
hence it is that this valley has got so hard a name. 
For the common people, when they hear that some 
frightful thing has befallen such a one in such a place, 
are of opinion that that place is haunted with some 
foul fiend or evil spirit ; when, alas ! it is for the fruit of 
their own doings that such things do befall them there. 
This Valley of Humiliation is of itself as fruitful a 
place as any the crow flies over ; and I am persuaded, 



284 THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 

if we could hit upon it, we might find somewhere here- 
about something that might give us an account why 
Christian was so hardly beset in this place. 

Then James said to his mother, Lo, yonder stands a 
pillar, and it looks as if something was written thereon ; 
let us go and see what it is. So they went, and found 
there written, " Let Christian's slips before he came 
hither, and the battles that he met with in this place, 
be a warning to those that come after.'" 

Lo, said their guide, did not I tell you that there was 
something hereabouts that would give intimation of the 
reason why Christian was sp hard beset in this place? 
Then turning himself to Christiana, he said, No dis- 
paragement to Christian more than to many others 
whose hap and lot it was. For it is easier going up 
than down this hill, and that can be said but of few 
hills in all these parts of the world. But we will leave 
the good man ; he is at rest : he also had a brave victory 
over his enemy. Let Him grant, that dwelleth above, 
that we fare no worse, when we come to be tried, than 
he. 

But we will come again to this Valley of Humili- 
ation. It is the best and most fruitful piece of ground 
in all these parts. It is fat ground, and as you see, 
consisteth much in meadows ; and if a man was to 
come here in summer-time, as we do now, if he knew 
not any thing before thereof, and if he also delighted 
himself in the sight of his eyes, he might see that which 
would be delightful to him. Behold how green this 
valley is; also how beautified with lilies, Song, ii., 1. 
I have also known many laboring men that have got 
good estates in this Valley of Humiliation ; for God 
resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble, 
James, iv., 6; 1 Pet., v., 5. Indeed it is a very fruit- 



THE SHEPHERD'S EOY SINGING. 285 

ful soil, and doth bring forth by handfuls. Some also 
have wished that the next way to their Father's house 
were here, that they might be troubled no more with 
either hills or mountains to go over ; but the way is the 
way, and there's an end. 

Now as they were going along and talking, they es- 
pied a boy feeding his father's sheep. The boy was in 
very mean clothes, but of a fresh and well-favored coun- 
tenance ; and as he sat by himself he sung. Hark, 
said Mr. Great-Heart, to what the shepherd's boy 
saith. So they hearkened, and he said : 

He that is down, needs fear no fall; 

He that is low no pride ; 
He that is humble, ever shall ' 

Have God to be his guide. 

I am content with what I have, 

Little be it or much ; 
And, Lord, contentment still I crave, 

Because thou savest such. 

Fulness to such a burden is, 

That go on pilgrimage; 
Here little, and hereafter bliss, 

Is best from age to age. 

Then said their guide, Do you hear him? I will dare 
to say this boy lives a merrier life, and wears more of 
that herb called hearfs-ease in his bosom, than he 
that is clad in silk and velvet. But we will proceed 
in our discourse. 

In this valley our Lord formerly had his country- 
house : he loved much to be here. He loved also to 
walk these meadows, for he found the air was pleasant. 
Besides, here a man shall be free from the noise, and 
from the hurryings of this life : all states are full of noise 



286 FORGETFUL-GREEN. 

and confusion ; only the Valley of Humiliation is that 
empty and solitary place. Here a man shall not be so 
let and hindered in his contemplation as in other places 
he is apt to be. This is a valley that nobody walks in 
but those that love a pilgrim's life. And though Chris- 
tian had the hard hap to meet here with Apollyon, and 
to enter with him into a brisk encounter, yet I must 
tell you, that in former times men have met with 
angels here, Hos., xii., 4, 5 ; have found pearls here, 
Matt., xiii., 46 ; and have in this place found the words 
of life, Prov., viii., 35. 

Did I say our Lord had here in former days his 
country-house, and that he loved here to walk? I will 
add: — in this place, and to the people that love and 
trace these grounds, he has left a yearly revenue, to 
be faithfully paid them at certain seasons, for their 
maintenance by the way, and for their further encour- 
agement to go on in their pilgrimage. 

Now as they went on, Samuel said to Mr. Great- 
Heart, Sir, I perceive that in this valley my father and 
Apollyon had their battle; but where-about was the 
fight? for I perceive this valley is large. 

Great. Your father had the battle with Apollyon 
at a place yonder before us, in a narrow passage, just 
beyond Forgetful-Green. And indeed that place is the 
most dangerous place in all these parts. For if at any 
time pilgrims meet with any brunt, it is when they for- 
get what favors they have received, and how unworthy 
they are of them. This is the place also where others 
have been hard put to it. But more of the place when 
we are come to it ; for I persuade myself, that to this 
day there remains either some sign of the battle, or 
some monument to testify that such a battle there was 
fought. 



THE PLACE WHERE CHRISTIAN FOUGHT. 287 

Then said Mercy, I think I am as well in this valley 
as I have been any where else in all our journey : the 
place, methinks, suits with my spirit. I love to be in 
such places where there is no rattling with coaches, 
nor rumbling with wheels. Methinks, here one may, 
without much molestation, be thinking what he is, 
whence he came, what he has done, and to what the 
King has called him. Here one may think, and break 
at heart, and melt in one's spirit, until one's eyes 
become as the fishpools in Heshbon, Song, vii., 4. 
They that go rightly through this valley of Baca, make 
it a well ; the rain that God sends down from heaven 
upon them that are here, also filleth the pools. This 
valley is that from whence also the King will give to 
his their vineyards, and they that go through it shall 
sing, as Christian did for all he met with Apollyon, 
Ps. lxxxiv., 5-7; Hos., ii., 15. 

'Tis true, said their guide ; I have gone through this 
valley many a time, and never was better than when 
here. I have also been a conductor to several pilgrims, 
and they have confessed the same. " To this man will 
I look," saith the King, "even to him that is poor 
and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word, 1 ' 
Isa., lxvi., 2. 

Now they were come to the place where the afore- 
mentioned battle was fought. Then said the guide to 
Christiana, her children, and Mercy, This is the place ; 
on this ground Christian stood, and up there came 
Apollyon against him. And, look, did not I tell you? 
here is some of your husband's blood upon these 
stones to this day. Behold, also, how here and there 
are yet to be seen upon the place some of the shivers 
of Apollyon's broken darts. See also how they did 
beat the ground with their feet as they fought, to make 



288 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 

good their places against each other, how also with 
their by-blows they did split the very stones in pieces. 
Verily, Christian did here play the man, and showed 
himself as stout as Hercules could, had he been here, 
even he himself. When Apollyon was beat, he made 
his retreat to the next valley, that is called the Valley 
of the Shadow of Death, unto which we shall come 
anon. Lo, yonder also stands a monument on which 
is engraven this battle, and Christian's victory, to his 
fame throughout all ages. So because it stood just on 
the way-side before them, they stepped to it, and read 
the writing, which word for word was this : 

Hard by here was a battle fought, 
Most strange, and yet most true ; 

Christian and Apollyon sought 
Each other to subdue. 

The man so bravely play'd the man, 

He made the fiend to fly ; 
Of which a monument I stand, 

The same to testify. 

When they had passed by this place they came upon 
the borders of the Shadow of Death. This valley was 
longer than the other ; a place also most strangely 
haunted with evil things, as many are able to testify: 
but these women and children went the better through 
it, because they had daylight, and because Mr. Great- 
Heart was their conductor. 

When they were entered upon this valley, they thought 
that they heard a groaning as of dying men ; a very 
great groaning. They thought also that they did hear 
words of lamentation, spoken as of some in extreme 
torment. These things made the boys to quake ; the 



THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 289 

women also looked pale,. and wan ; but their guide bid 
them be of good comfort. 

So they went on a little further, and they thought 
that they felt the ground begin to shake under them, 
as if some hollow place was there : they heard also a 
kind of hissing, as of serpents, but nothing as yet ap- 
peared. Then said the boys, Are we not yet at the 
end of this doleful place? But the guide also bid them 
be of good courage, and look well to their feet ; lest 
haply, said he, you be taken in some snare. 

Now James began to be sick ; but I think the cause 
thereof was fear: so' his mother gave him some of that 
glass of spirits that had been given her at the Inter- 
preter's house, and three of the pills that Mr. Skill had 
prepared, and the boy began to revive. Thus they 
went on till they came to about the middle of the val- 
ley ; and then Christiana said, Methinks I see some- 
thing yonder upon the road before us, a thing of such 
a shape as I have not seen. Then said Joseph, Mother, 
what is it? An ugly thing, child; an ugly thing, said 
she. But, mother, what was it like? said he. Tis 
like I cannot tell what, said she ; and now it is but a 
little way off. Then said she, It is nigh. 

Well, well, said Mr. Great-Heart, let them that are 
most afraid keep close to me. So the fiend came on, 
and the conductor met it ; but when it was just come 
to him it vanished to all their sights. Then remem- 
bered they what had been said some time ago, " Re- 
sist the devil, and he will flee from you," James, iv., 7. 

They went therefore on, as being a little refreshed. 
But they had not gone far before Mercy, looking be- 
hind her, saw, as she thought, something most like a 
lion, and it came a great padding pace after; and it 
had a hollow voice of roaring ; and at every roar that 



29O THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 

it gave, it made all the valley-echo, and all their hearts 
to echo, save the heart of him that was their guide. 
So it came up, and Mr. Great-Heart went behind, and 
put the pilgrims all before him. The lion also came 
on apace, and Mr. Great-Heart addressed himself to 
give him battle, 1 Pet., v., 8, 9. But when he saw 
that it was determined that resistance should be made, 
he also drew back, and came no further. 

Then they went on again, and their conductor went 
before them, till they came to a place where was cast 
up a pit the whole breadth of the way ; and before 
they could be prepared to go over that, a great mist 
and a darkness fell upon them, so that they could 
not see. Then said the pilgrims, Alas ! what now shall 
we do? But their guide made answer, Fear not, stand 
still, and see what an end will be put to this also : so 
they stayed there because their path was marred. 
They then also thought that they did hear more appar- 
ently the noise and rushing of the enemies ; the fire 
also, and smoke of the pit, were much easier to be dis- 
cerned. Then said Christiana to Mercy, Now I see 
what my poor husband went through. I have heard 
much of this place, but 1 never was here before now. 
Poor man ! he went here alone in the night ; he had 
night almost quite through the way ; also these fiends 
were busy abou.t him, as if they would have torn him 
in pieces. Many have spoken of it ; but none can tell 
what the Valley of the Shadow of Death should mean 
until they come in it themselves. The heart knoweth 
its own bitterness ; and a stranger intermeddleth not 
with its joy, Pro v., xiv., 10. To be here is a fearful 
thing. 

Great. This is like doing business in great waters, 
or like going down into the deep. This is like being 



THEY PRAY IN THE VALLEY. 2QJ 

in the heart of the sea, and like going down to the 
bottoms of the mountains. Now it seems as if the 
earth, with its bars, were about us for ever. But let 
them that walk in darkness and have no light trust in 
the name of the Lord, and stay upon their God, Isa., 
1., 10. For my part, as I have told you already, I have 
gone often through this valley, and have been much 
harder put to it than now I am : and yet you see I am 
alive. I would not boast, for that I am not my own 
saviour ; but I trust we shall have a good deliverance. 
Come, let us pray for light to Him that can lighten our 
darkness, and that can rebuke not only these, but all 
the satans in hell. 

So they cried and prayed, and God sent light and 
deliverance, for there was now no let in their way : no, 
not there, where but now they were stopped with a pit. 
Yet they were not got through the valley. So they 
went on still, and met with great stinks and loathsome 
smells, to the great annoyance of them. Then said 
Mercy to Christiana, It is not so pleasant being here 
as at the gate, or at the Interpreter's or at the house 
where we lay last. 

O but, said one of the boys, it is not so bad to go 
through here as it is to abide here always ; and for 
aught I know, one reason why we must go this way to 
the house prepared for us is, that our home might be 
made the sweeter to us. 

Well said, Samuel, quoth the guide ; thou hast now 
spoken like a man. Why, if ever I get out here again, 
said the boy, I think I shall prize light and good way 
better than I ever did in all my life. Then said the 
guide, We shall be out by and by. 

So they went, and Joseph said, Cannot we see to the 
end of this valley as yet ? Then said the guide, Look 



292 GIANT MAUL. 

to your feet, for we shall presently be among the snares : 
so they looked to their feet, and went on ; but they 
were troubled much with the snares. Now when they 
were come among the snares they espied a man cast 
into the ditch on the left hand with his flesh all rent 
and torn. Then said the guide, That is one Heedless, 
that was going this way : he has lain there a great while. 
There was one Take-Heed with him when he was taken 
and slain ; but he escaped their hands. You cannot 
imagine how many are killed hereabouts, and yet men 
are so foolishly venturous as to set out lightly on pil- 
grimage, and to come without a guide. Poor Chris- 
tian ! It was a wonder that he here escaped ; but he 
was beloved of his God : also he had a good heart of 
his own, or else he could never have done it. 

Now they drew toward the end of this way ; and just 
where Christian had seen the cave when he went by, 
out thence came forth Maul, a giant. This Maul did 
use to spoil young pilgrims with sophistry ; and he 
called Great-Heart by his name, and said unto him, 
How many times have you been forbidden to do these 
things? Then said Mr. Great-Heart, What things? 
What things? quoth the giant ; you know what things ; 
but I will put an end to your trade. 

But pray, said Mr. Great-Heart, before we fall to it, 
let us understand wherefore we must fight. Now the 
women and children stood trembling, and knew not 
what to do. Quoth the giant, You rob the country, 
and rob it with the worst of thefts. These are but 
generals, said Mr. Great-Heart ; come to particulars, 
man. 

Then said the giant, Thou practisest the craft of a 
kidnapper ; thou gatherest up women and children, and 
carriest them into a strange country, to the weakening 



BATTLE WITH GIANT MAUL. 293 

of my master's kingdom. But now Great-Heart 
replied, I am the servant of the God of heaven, my 
business is to persuade sinners to repentance. I am 
commanded to do my endeavor to turn men, women, 
and children, from darkness and light, and from the 
power of Satan unto God ; and if this be indeed the 
ground of the quarrel, let us fall to it as soon as thou 
wilt. 

Then the giant Came up, and Mr. Great-Heart went 
to meet him ; and as he went he drew his sword, but 
the giant had a club. So without more ado they fell to 
it, and at the first blow the giant struck Mr. Great- 
Heart down upon one of his knees. With that the 
women and children cried out. So Mr. Great-Heart, 
recovering himself, laid about him in full lusty manner, 
and gave the giant a wound in his arm. Thus he 
fought for the space of an hour, to that height of 
heat, that the breath came out of the giant's nostrils 
as the heat doth out of a boiling caldron. 

Then they sat down to rest them ; but Mr. Great- 
Heart betook himself to prayer. Also the women and 
children did nothing but sigh and cry all the time that 
the battle did last. 

When they had rested them, and taken breath, they 
both fell to it again, and Mr. Great-Heart, with a blow, 
fetched the giant down to the ground. Nay, hold, let 
me recover, quoth he. So Mr. Great-Heart fairly let 
him get up ; so to it they went again ; and the giant 
missed but little of all to breaking Mr. Great-Heart's 
skull with his club. 

Mr. Great-Heart seeing that, runs to him in the full 
heat of his spirit, and pierceth him under the fifth rib. 
With that the giant began to faint, and could hold up 
his club no longer. Then Mr. Great-Heart seconded 



294 THE GIANT SLAIN BY GREAT-HEART. 

his blow, and smote the head of the giant from his 
shoulders. Then the women and children rejoiced, 
and Mr. Great-Heart also praised God for the deliver- 
ance he had wrought. 

When this was done, they amongst them erected a 
pillar, and fastened the giant's head thereon, and wrote 
under it in letters that passengers might read : 

He that did wear this head was one 

That pilgrims did misuse ; 
He stopt their way, he spared none, 

But did them all abuse 
Until that I, Great-Heart, arose, 

The pilgrim's guide to be ; 
Until that I did him oppose 

That was their enemy. 

Now I saw that they went on to the ascent that was 
a little way off, cast up to be a prospect for pilgrims. 
That was the place from whence Christian had the first 
sight of Faithful his brother, Wherefore, here they 
sat down and rested. They also here did eat and 
drink, and make merry, for that they had gotten deliv- 
erance from this so dangerous an enemy. As they sat 
thus and did eat, Christiana asked the guide if he had 
caught no hurt in the battle. Then said Mr. Great- 
Heart, No, save a little on my flesh ; yet that also shall 
be so far from being to my detriment, that it is at pres- 
ent a proof of my love to my Master and you, and 
shall be a means, by grace, to increase my reward at 
last. 

Chr. But were you not afraid, good sir, when you 
saw him come with his club? 

It is my duty, said he, to mistrust my own ability, 
that I may have reliance on Him who is stronger than 
all. 



DISCOURSE OF THE FIGHT. 295 

Chr. But what did you think when he fetched you 
down to the ground at the first blow? 

Why, I thought, replied he, that so my Master him- 
self was served, and yet he it was that conquered at 
last, 2 Cor., iv\, 10, 11 ; Rom., viii., 37. 

Matt. When you all have thought what you please, 
I think God has been wonderful good unto us, both in 
bringing us out of this valley, and in delivering us 
out of the hand of this enemy. For my part, I see no 
reason why we should distrust our God any more, 
since he has now, and in such place as this, given us 
such testimony of his love as this. 

Then they got up, and went forward. Now a little 
before them stood an oak, and under it, when they 
came to it, they found an old pilgrim fast asleep. 
They knew that he was a pilgrim, by his clothes, and 
his staff, and his girdle. 

So the guide, Mr. Great-Heart, awaked him ; and 
the old gentleman, as he lifted up his eyes, cried out, 
What's the matter? who are you? and what is your 
business here? 

Great. Come, man, be not so hot; here is none 
but friends. 

Yet the old man gets up, and stands upon his guard, 
and will know of them what they are. Then said the 
guide, My name is Great-Heart : I am the guide of these 
pilgrims that are going to the Celestial Country. 

Then said Mr. Honest, I cry you mercy : I feared 
that you had been of the company of those that some 
time ago did rob Little-Faith of his money ; but now 
I look better about me, I perceive you are honester 
people. 

Great. Why, what would or could you have done 
to have helped yourself, if we indeed had been of that 
company? 



296 THE PILGRIMS MEET OLD HONEST. 

Hon. Done ? Why, I would have fought as long as 
breath had been in me ; and had I so done, I am sure 
you could never have given me the worst on't : for a 
Christian can never be overcome unless he shall yield 
of himself. 

Well said, old pilgrim, quoth the guide ; for by this 
I know thou art a cock of the right kind, for thou hast 
said the truth. 

Hon. And by this also I know that thou knowest 
what true pilgrimage is ; for all others think that we 
are the soonest overcome of any. 

Great. Well, now we are so happily met, pray let 
me crave your name, and the name of the place you 
came from. 

Hon. My name I cannot tell you ; but I came from 
the town of Stupidity : it lieth about four degrees be- 
yond the city of Destruction. 

Great. Oh ! Are you that countryman ? Then I 
deem I have half a guess of you ; your name is old Hon- 
esty, is it not? 

So the old gentleman blushed, and said, Not Hon- 
esty in the abstract, but Honest is my name, and I 
wish that my nature may agree to what I am called. 
But, sir, said the old gentleman, how could you guess 
that I am such a man, since I came from such a place? 

Great. I had heard of you before by my Master ; 
for he knows all things that are done on the earth. 
But I have often wondered that any one should come 
from your place : for your town is worse than is the 
city of Destruction itself. 

Hon. Yes, we lie more off from the sun, and so are 
more cold and senseless. But as a man in a moun- 
tain of ice, yet if the Sun of Righteousness will arise 
upon him, his frozen heart shall feel a thaw ; and thus 
it hath been with me. 



DISCOURSE WITH OLD HONEST. 297 

Great. I believe it, father Honest, I believe it ; for 
I know the thing is true. 

Then the old gentleman saluted all the pilgrims with 
a holy kiss of charity, and asked them their names, 
and how they had fared since they set out on their 
pilgrimage. 

Then said Christiana, My name I suppose you have 
heard of; good Christian was my husband, and these 
four are his children. 

But can you think how the old gentleman was taken 
when she told him who she was? He skipped, he 
smiled, he blessed them with a thousand good wishes, 
saying : 

I have heard much of your husband, and of his 
travels, and wars which he underwent in his days. Be 
it spoken to your comfort, the name of your husband 
rings all over these parts of the world : his faith, his 
courage, his enduring, and his sincerity under all, 
have made his name famous. Then he turned him to 
the boys, and asked them of their names, which they 
told him. Then said he unto them, Matthew, be thou 
like Matthew the publican, not in vice, but in virtue, 
Matt., x., 3. Samuel, said he, be thou like Samuel the 
prophet, a man of faith and prayer, Ps. xcix., 6. 
Joseph, said he, be thou like Joseph in Potiphar's 
house, chaste, and one that flees from temptation, Gen., 
xxxix. And, James, be thou like James the just, and 
like James the brother of our Lord, Acts, i., 13. Then 
they told him of Mercy, and how she had left her town 
and her kindred to come along with Christiana, and 
with her sons. At that the old honest man said, Mercy 
is thy name ; by mercy shalt thou be sustained and 
carried through all those difficulties that shall assault 
thee in thy way, till thou shalt come thither where thou 



298 OLD HONEST BLESSES THE PILGRIMS. 

shalt look the Fountain of mercy in the face with 
comfort. 

All this while the guide, Mr. Great-Heart, was very 
well pleased, and smiled upon his companion. 

Now, as they walked along together, the guide asked 
the old gentleman, if he did not know one Mr. Fearing, 
that came on pilgrimage out of his parts. 

Yes, very well, said he. He was a man that had the 
root of the matter in him : but he was one of the most 
troublesome pilgrims that ever I met with in all my days. 

Great. I perceive you knew him, for you have 
given a very right character of him. 

Hon. Knew him ! I was a great companion of his ; 
I was with him most an end ; when he first began to 
think upon what would come upon us hereafter, I was 
with him. 

Great. I was his guide from my Master's house to 
the gates of the Celestial City. 

Hon. Then you knew him to be a troublesome one. 

Great. I did so ; but I could very well bear it ; for 
men of my calling are oftentimes intrusted with the 
conduct of such as he was. 

Hon. Well then, pray let us hear a little of him, 
and how he managed himself under your conduct. 

Great. Why, he was always afraid that he should 
come short of whither he had a desire to go. Every- 
thing frightened him that he heard anybody speak of; 
if it had but the least appearance of opposition in it. 
I have heard that he lay roaring at the Slough of De- 
spond for above a month together ; nor durst he, for 
all he saw several go over before him, venture, though 
they many of them offered to lend him their hands. 
He would not go back again neither. The Celestial 
City — he said he should die if he came not to it; and 



TALK ABOUT MR. FEARING, THE PILGRIM. 299 

yet he was dejected at every difficulty, and stumbled 
at every straw that anybody cast in his way. Well, 
after he had lain at the Slough of Despond a great 
while, as I have told you, one sunshiny morning, I 
don't know how, he ventured, and so got over; but 
when he was over he would scarce believe it. He 
had, I think, a Slough of Despond in his mind, a 
slough that he carried everywhere with him, or else 
he could never have been as he was. So he came up 
to the gate, you know what I mean, that stands at the 
head of this way, and there also he stood a good while 
before he would venture to knock. When the gate 
was opened, he would give back, and give place to 
others, and say that he was not worthy. For all he 
got before some to the gate, yet many of them went 
in before him. There the poor man would stand shak- 
ing and shrinking ; I dare say it would have pitied 
one's heart to have seen him. Nor would he go back 
again. At last he took the hammer that hanged on 
the gate, in his hand, and gave a small rap or two ; 
then one opened to him, but he shrunk back as before. 
He that opened stepped out after him and said, Thou 
trembling one, what wantest thou? With that he fell 
to the ground. He that spoke to him wondered to 
see him so faint, so he said to him, Peace be to 
thee ; up, for I have set open the door to thee ; come 
in, for thou art blessed. With that he got up, and 
went in trembling; and when he was in, he was 
ashamed to show his face. Well, after he had been 
entertained there awhile, as you know how the manner 
is, he was bid go on his way, and also told the way he 
should take. So he went on till he came to our house ; 
but as he behaved himself at the gate, so he did at my 
Master the Interpreter's door. He lay thereabout in 



300 TALK ABOUT MR. FEARING, THE PILGRIM. 

the cold a good while, before he would adventure to 
call ; yet he would not go back ; and the nights were 
long and cold then. Nay, he had a note of necessity 
in his bosom to my Master to receive him, and grant 
him the comfort of his house, and also to allow him a 
stout and valiant conductor, because he was himself so 
chicken-hearted a man ; and yet for all that he was 
afraid to call at the door. So he lay up and down 
thereabouts, till, poor man, he was almost starved ; 
yea, so great was his dejection, that though he saw 
several others for knocking get in, yet he was afraid to 
venture. At last, I think, I looked out of the window, 
and perceiving a man to be up and down about the 
door, I went out to him, and asked what he was ; but, 
poor man, the water stood in his eyes ; so I perceived 
what he wanted. I went therefore in, and told it in 
the house, and we showed the thing to our Lord : so 
he sent me out again, to entreat him to come in ; but 
I dare say, I had hard work to do it. At last he came 
in ; and 1 will say that for my Lord, he carried it won- 
derful loving to him. There were but a few good bits 
at the table but some of it was laid upon his trencher. 
Then he presented the note ; and my Lord looked 
thereon, and said his desire should be granted. So 
when he had been there a good while, he seemed 
to get some heart, and to be a little more comforted. 
For my Master, you must know, is one of very tender 
bowels, especially to them that are afraid ; wherefore 
he carried it so toward him as might tend most to his 
encouragement. Well, when he had had a sight of the 
things of the place, and was ready to take his journey 
to go to the City, my Lord, as he did to Christian 
before, gave him a bottle of spirits, and some comfort- 
able things to eat. Thus we set forward, and I went 



TALK ABOUT MR. FEARING, THE PILGRIM. 30I 

before him ; but the man was but of few words, only 
he would sigh aloud. 

When we were come to the place where the three 
fellows were hanged, he said that he doubted that that 
would be his end also. Only he seemed glad when he 
saw the Cross and the Sepulchre. There I confess he 
desired to stay a little to look ; and he seemed for a 
while after to be a little cheery. When he came at 
the hill Difficulty, he made no stick at that, nor did 
he much fear the lions : for you must know that his 
trouble was not about such things as these ; his fear 
was about his acceptance at last. 

1 got him in at the house Beautiful, I think, before he 
was willing. Also when he was in, I brought him 
acquainted with the damsels of the place ; but he was 
ashamed to make himself much for company. He de- 
sired much to be alone ; yet he always loved good talk, 
and often would get behind the screen to hear it. He 
also loved much to see ancient things, and to be ponder- 
ing them in his mind. He told me afterward, that he 
loved to be in those two houses from which he came 
last, to wit, at the gate, and that of the Interpreter, but 
that he durst not be so bold as to ask. 

When we went also from the house Beautiful, down 
the hill, into the Valley of Humiliation, he went down 
as well as ever I saw a man in my life ; for he cared not 
how mean he was, so he might be happy at last. Yea, 
1 think there was a kind of sympathy betwixt that 
valley and him ; for I never saw him better in all his 
pilgrimage than when he was in that valley. 

Here he would lie down, embrace the ground, and 
kiss the very flowers that grew in this valley, Lam., iii., 
27-29. He would now be up every morning by break 
of day, tracing and walking to and fro in the valley. 



302 TALK ABOUT MR. FEARING, THE PILGRIM. 

But when he was come to the entrance of the Valley 
of the Shadow of Death, I thought I should have lost 
my man : not for that he had any inclination to go 
back ; that he always abhorred ; but he was ready to 
die for fear. Oh, the hobgoblins will have me ! the 
hobgoblins will have me ! cried he ; and I could not 
beat him out on't. He made such a noise, and such 
an outcry here, that had they but heard him, it was 
enough to encourage them to come and fall upon us. 

But this I took very great notice of, that this valley 
was as quiet when we went through it as ever I knew 
it before or since. I suppose those enemies here had 
now a special check from our Lord, and a command not 
to meddle until Mr. Fearing had passed over it. 

It would be too tedious to tell you of all : we will 
therefore only mention a passage or two more. When 
he was come at Vanity Fair I thought he would have 
fought with all the men in the fair. 1 feared there we 
should both have been knocked on the head, so hot 
was he against their fooleries. Upon the Enchanted 
Ground he was also very wakeful. But when he was 
come at the river where was no bridge, there again he 
was in a heavy case. Now, now, he said, he should 
be drowned forever, and so never see that Face with 
comfort that he had come so many miles to behold. 

And here also I took notice of what was very re- 
markable : the water of that river was lower at this 
time, than ever I saw it in all my life ; so he went over at 
last, not much above wetshod. When he was going up 
to the gate I began to take leave of him, and to wish him 
a good reception above. So he said, I shall, I shall. 
Then parted we asunder, and I saw him no more. 

Hon. Then it seems he was well at last. 

Great. Yes, yes, I never had a doubt about him. 



TALK ABOUT MR. FEARING, THE PILGRIM. 303 

He was a man of a choice spirit, only he was always 
kept very low, and that made his life so burdensome to 
himself, and so troublesome to others, Ps., lxxxviii. 
He was above many, tender of sin : he was so afraid 
of doing injuries to others, that he often would deny 
himself of that which was lawful, because he would not 
offend, Rom., xiv., 21 ; 1 Cor., viii., 13. 
. Hon. But what should be the reason that such a 
good man should be all his days so much in the dark ? 

Great. There are two sorts of reasons for it. One 
is, the wise God will have it so : some must pipe, and 
some must weep, Matt., xi., 16. Now Mr. Fearing was 
one that played upon the bass. He and his fellows 
sound the sackbut, whose notes are more doleful than 
the notes of other music are : though indeed, some say, 
the bass is the ground of music. And for my part, I 
care not at all for that profession which begins not in 
heaviness of mind. The first string that the musician 
usually touches is the bass, when he intends to put all 
in tune. God also plays upon this string first, when he 
sets the soul in tune for himself. Only there was the 
imperfection of Mr. Fearing; he could play upon no 
other music but this, till toward his latter end. 

I make bold to talk thus metaphorically for the 
ripening of the wits of young readers, and because, in 
the book of the Revelation, the saved are compared to 
a company of musicians that play upon their trumpets 
and harps, and sing their songs before the throne, 
Rev., v., 8 ; xvi., 2, 3. 

Hon. He was a very zealous man, as one may see 
by the relation which you have given of him. Difficul- 
ties, lions, or Vanity Fair, he feared not at all ; it was 
only sin, death, and hell, that were to him a terror, 
because he had some doubts about his interest in that 
Celestial Country. 



304 TALK ABOUT MR. FEARING, THE PILGRIM. 

Great. You say right ; those were the things that 
were his troublers : and they, as you have well observed, 
arose from the weakness of his mind thereabout, not 
from weakness of spirit as to the practical part of a 
pilgrim's life. I dare believe that, as the proverb is, he 
could have bit a firebrand, had it stood in his way ; but 
the things with which he was oppressed, no man ever 
yet could shake off with ease. 

Then said Christiana, This relation of Mr. Fearing 
has done me good : I thought nobody had been like 
me. But I see there was some semblance betwixt this 
good man and me : only we differed in two things. 
His troubles were so great that they broke out ; but 
mine I kept within. His also lay so hard upon him, 
they made him that he could not knock at the houses 
provided for entertainment ; but my trouble was always 
such as made me knock the louder. 

Mer. If I might also speak my heart, I must say 
that something of him has also dwelt in me. For I 
have ever been more afraid of the lake, and the loss 
of a place in Paradise, than I have been of the loss of 
other things. O, thought I, may I have the happiness 
to have a habitation there ! 'Tis enough, though I 
part with all the world to win it. 

Then said Matthew, Fear was one thing that made 
me think that I was far from having that within me 
which accompanies salvation. But if it was so with 
such a good man as he, why may it not also go well 
with me? 

No fears, no grace, said James. Though there is 
not always grace where there is the fear of hell ; yet, 
to be sure, there is no grace where there is no fear of 
God. 

Great. Well said, James, thou hast hit the mark. 



TALK ABOUT MR. FEARING, THE PILGRIM. 305 

For the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom ; and 
to be sure, they that want the beginning have neither 
middle nor end. But we will here conclude our 
discourse of Mr. Fearing, after we have sent after him 
this farewell : 

Well, Master Fearing, thou didst fear 

Thy God, and wast afraid 
Of doing any thing, while here, 

That would have thee betrayed. 
And didst thou fear the lake and pit ? 

Would others do so too ! 
For, as for them that want thy wit, 

They do themselves undo. 

Now I saw that they still went on in their talk. For 
after Mr. Great-Heart had made an end with Mr. Fear- 
ing, Mr. Honest began to tell them of another, but his 
name was Mr. Self- Will. He pretended himself to be 
a pilgrim, said Mr. Honest ; but I persuade myself he 
never came in at the gate that stands at the head of 
the way. 

Great. Had you ever any talk with him about it? 

Hon. Yes, more than once or twice ; but he would 
always be like himself self-willed. He neither cared 
for man, nor argument, nor yet example ; what his 
mind prompted him to, that he would do, and nothing 
else could he be got to do. 

Great. Pray what principles did he hold? for I 
suppose you can tell. 

Hon. He held that a man might follow the vices as 
well as the virtues of pilgrims ; and that if he did both, 
he should be certainly saved. 

Great. How? If he had said, 'tis possible for the 
best to be guilty of the vices, as well as to partake of 
the virtues of pilgrims, he could not much have been 



306 TALK ABOUT SELF-WILL. 

blamed ; for indeed we are exempted from no vice ab- 
solutely, but on condition that we watch and strive. 
But this I perceive is not the thing ; but if I understand 
you right, your meaning is, that he was of opinion that 
it was allowable so to be. 

Hon. Ay, ay, so I mean, and so he believed and 
practised. 

Great. But what grounds had he for his so saying? 

Hon. Why, he said he had the Scripture for his 
warrant. 

Great. Prithee, Mr. Honest, present us with a few 
particulars. 

Hon. So I will. He said, to have to do with other 
men's wives had been practised by David, God's be- 
loved ; and therefore he could do it. He said, to have 
more women than one was a thing that Solomon prac- 
tised, and therefore he could do it. He said, that Sarah 
and the godly midwives of Egypt lied, and so did 
Rahab, and therefore he could do it. He said, that the 
disciples went at the bidding of their Master, and took 
away the owner's ass, and therefore he could do so too. 
He said, that Jacob got the inheritance of his father in 
a way of guile and dissimulation, and therefore he could 
do so too. 

Great. High base indeed ! And are you sure he 
was of this opinion? 

Hon. I have heard him plead for it, bring Scripture 
for it, bring arguments for it, etc. 

Great. An opinion that is not fit to be with any 
allowance in the world ! 

Hon. You must understand me rightly : he did not 
say that any man might do this ; but that they who 
had the virtues of those that did such things, might 
also do the same. 



TALK OF SELF-WILL. 307 

Great. But what more false than such a conclusion ? 
For this is as much as to say, that because good men 
heretofore have sinned of infirmity, therefore he had 
allowance to do it of a presumptuous mind ; or that if, 
because a child, by the blast of the wind, or for that it 
stumbled at a stone, fell down and denied itself in the 
mire, therefore he might wilfully lie down and wallow 
like a boar therein. Who could have thought that any 
one could so far have been blinded by the power of 
lust? But what is written must be true ; they " stumble 
at the word, being disobedient, whereunto also they 
were appointed." i Pet., ii., 8. Again, his supposing 
that such may have the godly men's virtues, who addict 
themselves to their vices, is also a delusion as strong 
as the other. 'Tis just as if the dog should say, I have 
or may have the qualities of the child, because I lick 
up its stinking excrements. To eat up the sin of God's 
people, Hos., iv., 8, is no sign of one that is possessed 
with their virtues. Nor can I believe that one who is 
of this opinion can at present have faith or love in him. 
But I know you have made strong objections against 
him ; prithee what can he say for himself ? 

Hon. Why, he says, to do this by way of opinion 
seems abundance more honest than to do it, and yet 
hold contrary to it in opinion. 

Great. A very wicked answer. For though to let 
loose the bridle to lusts, while our opinions are against 
such things, is bad ; yet to sin, and plead a toleration 
so to do, is worse ; the one stumbles beholders acci- 
dently, the other pleads them into the snare. 

Hon. There are many of this man's mind, that have 
not this man's mouth ; and that makes going on pil- 
grimage of so little esteem as it is. 

Great. You have said the truth, and it is to be 



308 FAULTS OF PILGRIMS. 

lamented : but he that feareth the King of Paradise 
shall come out of them all. 

Chr. There are strange opinions in the world. I 
know one that said, it was time enough to repent when 
we come to die. 

Great. Such are not over-wise ; that man would 
have been loth, might he have had a week to run 
twenty miles in his life, to defer his journey to the last 
hour of that week. 

Hon. You say right ; and yet the generality of them, 
who count themselves pilgrims, do indeed do thus. 
I am, as you see, an old man, and have been a traveller 
in this road many a day ; and I have taken notice of 
many things. 

I have seen some that have set out as if they would 
drive all the world before them, who yet have, in a few 
days, died as they in the wilderness, and so never got 
sight of the Promised Land. 

I have seen some that have promised nothing at 
first setting out to be pilgrims, and who one would 
have thought could not have lived a day, that have yet 
proved very good pilgrims. 

I have seen some who have run hastily forward, that 
again have, after a little time, run just as fast back 
again. 

I have seen some who have spoken very well of a 
pilgrim's life at first, that after a while have spoken as 
much against it. 

I have heard some, when they first set out for para- 
dise, say positively, there is such a place, who, when 
they have been almost there, have come back again, 
and said there is none. 

I have heard some vaunt what they would do in case 
they should be opposed, that have, even at a false 
alarm, fled faith, the pilgrim's way, and all. 



THE PILGRIMS DESIRE AN INN. 309 

Now as they were thus on their way, there came one 
running to meet them, and said, Gentlemen, and you 
of the weaker sort, if you love life, shift for yourselves, 
for the robbers are before you. 

Then said Mr. Great-Heart, They be the three that 
set upon Little-Faith heretofore. Well, said he, we are 
ready for them : so they went on their way. Now they 
looked at every turning when they should have met 
with the villains ; but whether they heard of Mr. Great- 
Heart, or whether they had some other game, they 
came not up to the pilgrims. 

Christiana then wished for an inn to refresh herself 
and her children, because they were weary. Then said 
Mr. Honest, There is one a little before us, where a 
very honorable disciple, one Gaius, dwells, Rom., xvi., 
23. So they all concluded to turn in thither ; and the 
rather, because the old gentleman gave him so good a 
report. So when they came to the door they went in, 
not knocking, for folks use not to knock at the door of 
an inn. Then they called for the master of the house, 
and he came to them. So they asked if they might lie 
there that night. 

Gaius. Yes, gentlemen, if you be true men ; for my 
house is for none but pilgrims. Then were Christiana, 
Mercy, and the boys, the more glad, for that the inn- 
keeper was a lover of pilgrims. So they called for 
rooms, and he showed them one for Christiana and 
her children, and Mercy, and another for Mr. Great- 
Heart and the old gentleman. 

Then said Mr. Great-Heart, Good Gaius, what hast 
thou for supper? for these pilgrims have come far to- 
day, and are weary. 

It is late, said Gaius, so we cannot conveniently go 
out to seek food ; but such as we have you shall be 
welcome to, if that will content. 



310 THE PILGRIMS AT GAIUS'S HOUSE. 

Great. We will be content with what thou hast in 
the house ; for as much as I have proved thee, thou art 
never destitute of that which is convenient. 

Then he went down and spake to the cook, whose 
name was Taste-that-which-is-good, to get ready sup- 
per for so many pilgrims. This done, he comes up 
again, saying, Come, my good friends, you are welcome 
to me, and I am glad that I have a house to entertain 
you ; and while supper is making ready, if you please, 
let us entertain one another with some good" discourse ; 
so they all said, Content. 

Then said Gaius, Whose wife is this aged matron? 
and whose daughter is this young damsel? 

Great. This woman is the wife of one Christian, a 
pilgrim of former times ; and these are his four children. 
The maid is one of her acquaintance, one that she hath 
persuaded to come with her on pilgrimage. The boys 
take all after their father, and covet to tread in his 
steps : yea, if they do but see any place where the old 
pilgrim hath lain, or any print of his foot, it ministereth 
joy to their hearts, and they covet to lie or tread in the 
same. 

Then said Gaius, Is this Christian's wife and are 
these Christian's children? I knew your husband's 
father, yea, also his father's father. Many have been 
good of this stock ; their ancestors dwelt first at Antioch, 
Acts, xi., 26. Christian's progenitors (I suppose you 
have heard your husband talk of them) were very worthy 
men. They have, above any that I know, showed 
themselves men of great virtue and courage for the 
Lord of the pilgrims, his ways, and them that loved 
him. I have heard of many of your husband's relations 
that have stood all trials for the sake of the truth. 
Stephen, that was one of the first of the family from 



THE PILGRIMS AT GAIUS'S HOUSE. 3II 

whence your husband sprang, was knocked on the 
head with stones, Acts, vii., 59, 60. James, another of 
this generation, was slain with the edge of the sword, 
Acts, xii., 2. To say nothing of Paul and Peter, men 
anciently of the family from whence your husband came, 
there was Ignatius, who was cast to the lions ; Roma- 
nus, whose flesh was cut by pieces from his bones ; and 
Polycarp, that played the man in the fire. There was 
he that was hanged up in a basket in the sun for the 
wasps to eat ; and he whom they put into a sack, and 
cast into the sea to be drowned. It would be impossi- 
ble utterly to count up all of that family who have 
suffered injuries and death for the love of a pilgrim's 
life. Nor can I but be glad to see that thy husband 
has left behind him four such boys as these. I hope 
they will bear up their father's name, and tread in their 
fathers steps, and come to their father's end. 

Great. Indeed, sir, they are likely lads : they seem 
to choose heartily their father's ways. 

Gaius. That is it that I said. Wherefore Christian's 
family is like still to spread abroad upon the face of 
the ground, and yet to be numerous upon the face 
of the earth ; let Christiana look out some damsels for 
her sons, to whom they may be betrothed, etc., that the 
name of their father, and the house of his progenitors, 
may never be forgotten in the world. 

Hon. 'Tis pity this family should fall and be ex- 
tinct. 

Gaius. Fall it cannot, but be diminished it may, 
but let Christiana take my advice, and that is the way 
to uphold it. And, Christiana, said this innkeeper, I 
am glad to see thee and thy friend Mercy together here, 
a lovely couple. And if I may advise, take Mercy into 
a nearer relation to thee : if she will, let her be given 



312 THE PILGRIMS AT GAIUS'S HOUSE. 

to Matthew thy eldest son. It is the way to preserve 
a posterity in the earth. 

So this match was concluded, and in process of time 
they were married : but more of that hereafter. 

Gaius also proceeded, and said, I will now speak 
on the behalf of women, to take away their reproach. 
For as death and the curse came into the world by a 
woman, Gen., iii., so also did life and health : God sent 
forth his Son, made of a woman, Gal., iv., 4. Yea, to 
show how much they that came after did abhor the act 
of the mother, this sex in the Old Testament coveted 
children, if happily this or that woman might be the 
mother of the Saviour of the world. I will say again, 
that when the Saviour was come, women rejoiced in 
him, before either man or angel, Luke, i., 42-46. I 
read not that man ever gave unto Christ so much as 
one groat ; but the women followed him, and ministered 
to him of their substance, Luke, viii., 2, 3. Twas a 
woman that washed his feet with tears, Luke, vii., 
37-50 ; and a woman that anointed his body to the 
burial, John, xi., 2; xii., 3. They were women who 
wept when he was going to the cross, Luke, xxiii., 27 ; 
and women that followed him from the cross, Matt., 
xxvii., 55, 56; Luke, xxiii., 55; and that sat over 
against his sepulchre when he was buried, Matt., xxvii., 
61. They were women that were first with him at his 
resurrection-morn, Luke, xxiv., 1 ; and women that 
brought tidings first to his disciples that he was risen 
from the dead, Luke, xxiv., 22, 23. Women therefore 
are highly favored, and show by these things that they 
are sharers with us in the grace of life. 

Now the cook sent up to signify that supper was 
almost ready, and sent one to lay the cloth, and the 
trenchers, and to set the salt and bread in order. 



THE SUPPER. 313 

Then said Matthew, The sight of this cloth, and of 
this forerunner of the supper, begetteth in me a greater 
appetite to my food than I had before. 

Gaius. So let all ministering doctrines to thee in 
this life beget in thee a greater desire to sit at the 
supper of the great King in his kingdom ; for all 
preaching, books, and ordinances here, are but as the 
laying of the trenchers, and the setting of salt upon 
the board, when compared with the feast which our 
Lord will make for us when we come to his house. 

So supper came up. And first a heave-shoulder, 
and a wave-breast were set on the table before them ; 
to show that they must begin the meal with prayer and 
praise to God. The heave-shoulder David lifted up 
his heart to God with ; and with the wave-breast, 
where his heart lay, he used to lean upon his harp 
when he played, Lev., vii., 32-34; x., 14, 15; Ps., 
xxv. , 1 ; Heb., xiii., 15. These two dishes were very 
fresh and good, and they all ate heartily thereof. 

The next they brought up was a bottle of wine, as 
red as blood, Deut., xxxii., 14; Judg., ix., 13; John, 
xv., 5. So Gaius said to them, Drink freely ; this is the 
true juice of the vine, that makes glad the heart of 
God and man. So they drank and were merry. 

The next was a dish of milk, well crumbed ; but 
Gaius said, Let the boys have that, that they may 
grow thereby, 1 Pet., ii., 1, 2. 

Then they brought up in course a dish of butter and 
honey. Then said Gaius, Eat freely of this, for this 
is good to cheer up and strengthen your judgments 
and understandings. This was our Lord^ dish when 
he was a child: " Butter and honey shall he eat, that 
he may know to refuse the evil, and choose the good," 
Isa., vii., 15. 



3 14 A DISH OF NUTS. 

Then they brought up a dish of apples, and they 
were very good tasted fruit. Then said Matthew, 
May we eat apples, since they were such by and with 
which the serpent beguiled our first mother ? 

Then said Gaius : 



. Apples were they with which we were beguil'd ; 
Yet sin, not apples, hath our souls dehTd: 
Apples forbid, if ate, corrupt the blood ; 
To eat such, when commanded, does us good : 
Drink of his flagons then, thou church, his dove, 
And eat his apples, who are sick of love. 

Then said Matthew, I made the scruple, because I 
a-while since was sick with the eating of fruit. 

Gaius. Forbidden fruit will make you sick; but 
not what our Lord has tolerated. 

While they were thus talking, they were presented 
with another dish, and it was a dish of nuts, Song, vi., n. 
Then said some at the table, Nuts spoil tender teeth, 
especially the teeth of the children : which when Gaius 
heard, he said : 

Hard texts are nuts, (I will not call them cheaters,") 
Whose shells do keep their kernels from the eaters ; 
Open the shells, and you shall have the meat ; 
They here are brought for you to crack and eat. 

Then they were very merry, and sat at the table a 
long time, talking of many things. Then said the old 
gentleman, My good landlord, while we are cracking 
your nuts, if you please, do you open this riddle : 

A man there was, though some did count him mad, 
The more he cast away, the more he had. 



AFTER THE SUPPER. 315 

Then they all gave good heed, wondering what good 
Gaius would say ; so he sat still a while, and then 
thus replied : 

He who bestows his goods upon the poor 
Shall have as much again, and ten times more. 

Then said Joseph, I dare say, sir, I did not think 
you could have found it out. 

Oh ! said Gaius, I have been trained up in this way 
a great while : nothing teaches like experience. I 
have learned of my Lord to be kind, and have found by 
experience that I have gained thereby. There is that 
scattereth, and yet increaseth ; and there is that with- 
holdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty. 
There is that maketh himself rich, yet he hath nothing : 
there is that maketh himself poor, yet hath great 
riches, Prov., xi., 24; xiii., 7. 

Then Samuel whispered to Christiana, his mother, 
and said, Mother, this is a very good man's house : 
let us stay here a good while, and let my brother Mat- 
thew be married here to Mercy, before we go any 
further. 

The which Gaius, the host, over-hearing, said, With 
a very good will, my child. 

So they stayed here more than a month, and Mercy 
was given to Matthew to wife. 

While they stayed here, Mercy, as her custom was, 
made coats and garments to give to the poor, by which 
she brought a very good report upon the pilgrims. 

But to return again to our story. After supper the 
lads desired a bed, for they were weary with travelling. 
Then Gaius called to show them their chamber ; but 
said Mercy, I will have them to bed. So she had 
them to bed, and they slept well : but the rest sat up 



316 ANOTHER RIDDLE. 

all night ; for Gaius and they were such suitable com- 
pany, that they could not tell how to part. After 
much talk of their Lord, themselves, and their journey, 
old Mr. Honest, he that put forth the riddle to Gaius, 
began to nod. Then said Great-Heart, What, sir, you 
begin to be drowsy ; come, rub up, here is a riddle for 
you. Then said Mr. Honest, let us hear it. Then 
replied Mr. Great-Heart : 

He that will kill must first be overcome : 
Who live abroad would, first must die at home. 

Ha ! said Mr. Honest, it is a hard one ; hard to 
expound, and harder to practise. But, come, landlord, 
said he, I will, if you please, leave my part to you : do' 
you expound it, and I will hear what you say. 

No, said Gaius, it was put to you, and it is expected 
you should answer it. Then said the old gentleman : 

He first by grace must conquered be, 

That sin would mortify. 
Who that he lives would convince me 

Unto himself must die. 

It is right, said Gaius : good doctrine and experience 
teach this. For first, until grace displays itself and 
overcomes the soul with its glory, it is altogether 
without heart to oppose sin. Besides, if sin is Satan's 
cords, by which the soul lies bound, how should it make 
resistance before it is loosed from that infirmity? 

Secondly, Nor will any one that knows either reason 
or grace believe that such a man can be a living monu- 
ment of grace that is a slave to his own corruption. 

And now it comes into my mind, I will tell you a story 
worth the hearing. There were two men that went on 



A COMPARISON. 317 



other when he was old. The young man had strong 
corruptions to grapple with ; the old man's were weak 
with the decays of nature. The young man trod his 
steps as even as did the old one, and was every way as 
light as he. Who now, or which of them, had their 
graces shining clearest, since both seemed to be 
alike? 

Hon. The young man's doubtless. For that which 
heads it against the greatest opposition, gives best 
demonstration that it is strongest; specially when it 
also holdeth pace with that which meets not with half 
so much, as to be sure old age does not. 

Besides, I have observed that old men have blessed 
themselves with this mistake ; namely, taking the de- 
cays of nature for a gracious conquest over corruptions, 
and so have been apt to beguile themselves. Indeed, 
old men that are gracious are best able to give advice 
to them that are young, because they have se'en most 
of the emptiness of things : but yet, for an old and a 
young man to set out both together, the young one has 
the advantage of the fairest discovery of a work of 
grace within him, though the old mans corruptions are 
naturally the weakest. 

Thus they sat talking till break of day. 

Now when the family were up, Christiana bid her 
son James that he should read a chapter ; so he read 
the fifty-third of Isaiah. When he had done, Mr. 
Honest asked why it was said that the Saviour is to 
come out of a dry ground ; and also that he had no 
form or comeliness in him. 

Then said Mr. Great-Heart, To the first I answer, 
Because the church of the Jews, of which Christ 
came, had then lost almost all the sap and spirit of 



31 8 GIANT SLAY-GOOD ROBBING MR. FEEBLE-MIND. 

religion. To the second I say, the words are spoken 
in the person of the unbelievers, who, because they 
want that eye that can see into our Prince's heart, 
therefore they judge of him by the meanness of his 
outside, just like those who, not knowing that precious 
stones are covered over with a homely crust, when they 
have found one, because they know not what they have 
found, cast it again away, as men do a common stone. 

Well, said Gaius, now you are here, and since, as I 
know, Mr. Great-Heart is good at his weapons, if you 
please, after we have refreshed ourselves, we will walk 
into the fields, to see if we can do any good. About 
a mile from hence there is one Slay-Good, a giant, that 
doth much annoy the King's highway in these parts ; 
and I know whereabout his haunt is. He is master 
of a number of thieves : 'twould be well if we could 
clear these parts of him. 

So they consented and went ; Mr. Great-Heart with 
his sword, helmet, and shield; and the rest with 
spears and staves. 

When they were come to the place where he was, 
they found him with one Feeble-Mind in his hand, 
whom his servants had brought unto him, having taken 
him in the way. Now the giant was rifling him, with 
a purpose after that to pick his bones ; for he was of the 
nature of flesh-eaters. 

Well, so soon as he saw Mr. Great-Heart and his 
friends at the mouth of his cave, with their weapons, 
he demanded what they wanted. 

Great. We want thee ; for we are come to revenge 
the quarrels of the many that thou hast slain of the 
pilgrims, when thou hast dragged them out of the 
King's highway : wherefore come out of thy cave. 

So he armed himself and came out, and to battle 



GREAT-HEART KILLS GIANT SLAY-GOOD. 319 

they went, and fought for above an hour, and then 
stood still to take wind. 

Then said the giant, Why are you here on my 
ground? 

Great. To revenge the blood of pilgrims, as I told 
thee before. 

So they went to it again, and the giant made Mr. 
Great-Heart give back : but he came up again, and 
in the greatness of his mind he let fly with such 
stoutness at the giant's head and sides, that he 
made him let his weapon fall out of his hand. So he 
smote him, and slew him, and cut off his head, and 
brought it away to the inn. He also took Feeble- 
Mind, the pilgrim, and brought him with him to his 
lodgings. When they were come home, they showed 
his head to the family, and set it up, as they had done 
others before, for a terror to those that should attempt 
to do as he, hereafter. 

Then they asked Mr. Feeble-Mind how he fell into 
his hands. 

Then said the poor man, I am a sickly man, as you 
see : and because death did usually once a day knock 
at my door, I thought I should never be well at home ; 
so I betook myself to a pilgrim's life, and have travelled 
hither from the town of Uncertain, where I and my 
father were born. I am a man of no strength at all of 
body, nor yet of mind, but would, if I could, though I 
can but crawl, spend my life in the pilgrim's way. 
When I came at the gate that is at the head of the 
way, the Lord of that place did entertain me freely; 
neither objected he against my weakly loqks, nor 
against my feeble mind ; but gave me such things as 
were necessary for my journey, and bid me hope to the 
end. When I came to the house of the Interpreter I 



320 MR. FEEBLE-MIND'S HISTORY. 

received much kindness there : and because the Hill of 
Difficulty was judged too hard for me, I was carried up 
it by one of his servants. Indeed, I have found much 
relief from pilgrims, though none were willing to go so 
softly as I am forced to do : yet still as they came on, 
they bid me be of good cheer, and said, that it was the 
will of their Lord that comfort should be given to the 
feeble-minded, I Thess., v., 14; and so went on their 
own pace. When I was come to Assault-Lane, then 
this giant met with me, and bid me prepare for 
an encounter. But, alas ! feeble one that I was, I had 
more need of a cordial ; so he came up and took me. 
1 conceited he should not kill me. Also when he had 
got me into his den, since I went not with him willingly, 
1 believed I should come out alive again ; for I have 
heard, that not any pilgrim that is taken captive by 
violent hands, if he keeps heartwhole toward his 
Master, is, by the laws of providence, to die by the 
hand of the enemy. Robbed I looked to be, and robbed 
to be sure 1 am : but I have, as you see, escaped 
with life, for that which 1 thank my King as the author, 
and you as the means. Other brunts I also look for; 
but this I have resolved on, to wit, to run when I can, 
to go when 1 cannot run, and to creep when I cannot 
go. As to the main, I thank Him that loves me, 1 am 
fixed ; my way is before me, my mind is beyond the 
river that has no bridge, though I am, as you see, but 
of a feeble mind. 

Then said old Mr. Honest, Have not you, some 
time ago, been acquainted with one Mr. Fearing, a 
pilgrim ? 

Feeble. Acquainted with him ! Yes, he came 
from the town of Stupidity, which, lieth four degrees 
northward of the City of Destruction, and as many 



MR. FEEBLE-MIND COMFORTED. 32 1 

off of where I was born : yet we were well acquainted, 
for indeed he was my uncle, my father's brother. 
He and I have been much of a temper : he was a 
little shorter than I, but yet we were much of a 
complexion. 

Hon. I perceive you knew him, and I am apt to 
believe also that you were related one to another ; for 
you have his whitely look, a cast like his with your eye, 
and your speech is much alike. 

Feeble. Most have said so that have known us 
both : and, besides, what I have read in him I have 
for the most part found in myself. 

Come, sir, said good Gaius, be of good cheer ; you 
are welcome to me and to my house, and what thou 
hast a mind to, call for freely ; and what thou wouldst 
have my servants do for thee, they will do it with a 
ready mind. 

Then said Mr. Feeble-Mind, This is an unexpected 
favor, and as the sun shining out of a very dark cloud. 
Did Giant Slay-Good intend me this favor when he 
stopped me, and resolved to let me go no further? Did 
he intend, that after he had rifled my pockets I should 
go to Gaius mine host? Yet so it is. 

Now just as Mr. Feeble-Mind and Gaius were thus 
in talk, there came one running, and called at the door, 
and said, That about a mile and a half off there was 
one Mr. Not-Right, a pilgrim, struck dead upon the 
place where he was, with a thunderbolt. 

Alas! said Mr. Feeble-Mind, is he slain? He over- 
took me some days before I came so far as hither, and 
would be my company-keeper. He also was with me 
when Slav-Good, the giant, took me, but he was nimble 
of his heels, and escaped : but it seems he escaped to 
die, and I was taken to live. 



322 THE PILGRIMS LEAVE GAIUS S HOUSE. 

What one would think doth seek to slay outright, 

Oft-times delivers from the saddest plight. 

That very Providence whose face is death, 

Doth oft-times to the lowly life bequeath. 

I taken was, he did escape and flee ; 

Hands cross'd gives death to him and life to me. 

Now about this time Matthew and Mercy were 
married ; also Gaius gave his daughter Phoebe to 
James, Matthew's brother, to wife ; after which time, 
they yet stayed about ten days at Gaius's house, 
spending their time, and the seasons like as pilgrims 
use to do. 

When they were to depart, Gaius made them a feast, 
and they did eat and drink, and were merry. Now the 
hour was come that they must be gone ; wherefore Mr. 
Great-Heart called for a reckoning. But Gaius told 
him, that at his house it was not the custom for pil- 
grims to pay for their entertainment. He boarded 
them by the year, but looked for his pay from the good 
Samaritan, who had promised him, at his return, what- 
soever charge he was at with them, faithfully to repay 
him, Luke, x., 34, 35. Then said Mr. Great-Heart 
to him : 

Beloved, thou dost faithfully whatsoever thou dost 
to the brethren, and to strangers, who have borne 
witness of thy charity before the church, whom if 
thou yet bring forward on their journey, after a godly 
sort, thou shalt do well, John, lii., 6. 

Then Gaius took his leave of them all, and of his 
children, and particularly of Mr. Feeble-Mind. He 
also gave him something to drink by the way. 

Now Mr. Feeble-Mind, when they were going out 
of the door, made as if he intended to linger. The 
which, when Mr. Great-Heart espied, he said, Come, 



MR. READY-TO-HALT. 323 

Mr. Feeble-Mind, pray do you go along with us ; 
I will be your conductor, and you shall fare as the 
rest. 

Feeble. Alas ! I want a suitable companion. You 
are all lusty and strong, but I, as you see, am weak ; I 
choose therefore rather to come behind, lest, by reason 
of my many infirmities, I should be both a burden to 
myself and to you. I am, as I said, a man of a weak 
and feeble mind, and shall be offended and made weak 
at that which others can bear. I shall like no laughing ; 
I shall like no gay attire ; I shall like no unprofitable 
questions. Nay, I am so weak a man as to be offended 
with that which others have a liberty to do. I do not 
know all the truth : I am a very ignorant Christian man. 
Sometimes, if I hear any rejoice in the Lord, it troubles 
me, because I cannot do so too. It is with me as it is 
with a weak man among the strong, or as with a sick 
man among the healthy, or as a lamp despised, " He 
that is ready to slip with his feet is as a lamp despised 
in the thought of him that is at ease, 1 ' Job, xii., 5 ; so 
that I know not what to do. 

But, brother, said Mr. Great-Heart, I have it in com- 
mission to comfort the feeble-minded, and to support 
the weak. You must needs go along with us ; we will 
wait for you ; we will lend you our help ; we will deny 
ourselves of some things, both opinionative and prac- 
tical, for your sake : we will not enter into doubtful dis- 
putations before you ; we will be made all things to you, 
rather than you shall be left behind, 1 Thess., v., 14; 
Rom., xiv., 1 ; 1 Cor., viii., 9-13; ix., 22. 

Now all this while they were at Gaius's door, and 
behold, as they were thus in the heat of their discourse, 
Mr. Ready-to-Halt came by, with his crutches in his 
hand, and he also was going on pilgrimage. 



324 NEW TALK OF THE PILGRIMS. 

Then said Mr. Feeble-Mind to him, Man, how 
earnest thou hither? I was but now complaining that 
I had not a suitable companion, but thou art accord- 
ing to my wish. Welcome, welcome, good Mr. Ready- 
to-Halt, I hope thou and I may be some help. 

I shall be glad of thy company, said the other ; and, 
good Mr. Feeble-Mind, rather than we will part, since 
we are thus happily met, I will lend thee one of my 
crutches. 

Nay, answered he, though I thank thee for thy good 
will, I am not inclined to halt before I am lame. How- 
beit, I think, when occasion is, it may help me against 
a dog. 

Ready. If either myself or my crutches can do thee a 
pleasure, we are both at thy command, good Mr. 
Feeble-Mind. 

Thus therefore they went on. Mr. Great-Heart and 
Mr. Honest went before, Christiana and her children 
went next, and Mr. Feeble-Mind came behind, and 
Mr. Ready-to-Halt with his crutches. Then said Mr. 
Honest : 

Pray, sir, now we are upon the road, tell us some 
profitable things of some that have gone on pilgrimage 
before us. 

Great. With a good will. I suppose you have 
heard how Christian of old did meet with Apollyon in 
the Valley of Humiliation, and also what hard work he 
had to go through the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death. Also I think you cannot but have heard how 
Faithful was put to it by Madam Wanton, with Adam 
the First, and Discontent, and Shame ; four as de- 
ceitful villains as a man can meet with upon the 
road. 

Hon. Yes, I believe I have heard of all this ; but 



VANITY FAIR. 325 

indeed good Faithful was hardest put to it with Shame : 
he was an unwearied one. 

Great. Ay ; for, as the pilgrim well said, he of all 
men had the wrong name. 

Hon. But pray, sir, where was it that Christian and 
Faithful met Talkative ? That same was also a notable 
one. 

Great. He was a confident fool ; yet many follow 
his ways. 

Hon. He had like to have beguiled Faithful. 

Great. Ay, but Christian put him into a way 
quickly to find him out. 

Thus they went on till they came to the place where 
Evangelist met with Christian and Faithful, and proph- 
esied to them what should befall them at Vanity Fair. 
Then said their guide, Hereabouts did Christian and 
Faithful meet with Evangelist, who prophesied to 
them of the troubles which they should meet with at 
Vanity Fair. 

Hon. Say you so? I dare say it was a hard chapter 
that then he read unto them. 

Great. It was, but he gave them encouragement 
withal. But what do we talk of them? They were a 
couple of lion-like men ; they had set their faces like 
flints. Do not you remember how undaunted they 
were when they stood before the judge? 

Hon. Well : Faithful bravely suffered. 

Great. So he did, and as brave things came on't : 
for Hopeful, and some others, as the story relates it, 
were converted by his death. 

Hon. Well, but pray go on ; for you are well ac- 
quainted with things. 

Great. Above all that Christian met with after he 
had passed through Vanity Fair, one By-Ends was the 
arch one. 



326 MR. MNASON'S HOUSE. 

Hon. By-Ends ! what was he ? 

Great. A very arch fellow, a downright hypocrite, 
one that would be religious, which way soever the 
world went ; but so cunning, that he would be sure 
never to lose or suffer for it. He had his mode of re- 
ligion for every fresh occasion, and his wife was as 
good at it as he. He would turn from opinion to opin- 
ion ; yea, and plead for so doing too. But so far as I 
could learn, he came to an ill end with his by-ends, nor 
did I ever hear that any of his children were ever of any 
esteem with any that truly feared God. 

Now by this time they were come within sight of the 
town of Vanity, where Vanity Fair is kept. So when 
they saw that they were so near the town, they con- 
sulted with one another how they should pass through 
the town ; and some said one thing, and some another. 
At last Mr. Great-Heart said, I have, as you may under- 
stand, often been a conductor of pilgrims through this 
town. Now, I am acquainted with one Mr. Mnason, 
Acts, xxi., 16, a Cyprusian by nation, an old disciple, 
at whose house we may lodge. If you think good, we 
will turn in there. 

Content, said old Honest ; Content, said Christiana ; 
Content said Mr. Feeble-Mind ; and so they said all. 
Now you must think it was even-tide by that they got 
to the outside of the town ; but Mr. Great-Heart knew 
the way to the old man's house. So thither they came ; 
and he called at the door and the old man within knew 
his tongue so soon as ever he heard it ; so he opened 
the door, and they all came in. Then said Mnason 
their host, How far have ye come to-day? So they said, 
From the house of Gaius our friend. I promise you, 
said he, you have gone a good stitch. You may well 
be a-weary ; sit down. So they sat down. 



mnason's friends sent for. 327 

Then said their guide, Come, what cheer, sirs? I 
dare say you are welcome to my friend. 

I also, said Mr. Mnason, do bid you welcome ; and 
whatever you want, do but say, and we will do what 
we can to get it for you. 

Hon. Our great want, a while since, was harbor and 
good company, and now I hope we have both. 

Mnas. For harbor, you see what it is ; but for good 
company, that will appear in the trial. 

Well, said Mr. Great-Heart, will you have the pil- 
grims up into their lodging? 

I will, said Mr. Mnason. So he had them to their 
respective places ; and also showed them a very fair 
dining-room, where they might be, and sup together 
until time should come to go to rest. 

Now when they were seated in their places, and were 
a little refreshed after their journey, Mr. Honest asked 
his landlord if there was any store of good people in 
the town. 

Mnas. We have a few ; for indeed they are but a 
few when compared with them on the other side. 

Hon. But how shall we do to see some of them? 
for the sight of good men to them that are going on 
pilgrimage is like the appearing of the moon and stars 
to them that are sailing upon the seas. 

Then Mr. Mnason stamped with his foot, and his 
daughter Grace came up. So he said unto her, Grace 
go you, tell my friends, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy-Man, 
Mr. Love-Saint, Mr. Dare-not-Lie and Mr. Penitent, 
that I have a friend or two at my house who have a 
mind this evening to see them. 

So Grace went to call them, and they came ; and 
after salutation made, they sat down together at the 
table. 



328 PRESENT STATE OF VANITY FAIR. 

Then said Mr. Mnason their landlord, My neighbors, 
I have, as you see, a company of strangers come to my 
house ; they are pilgrims : they come from afar, and 
are going to Mount Zion. But who, quoth he, do you 
think this is? pointing. his finger to Christiana. It is 
Christiana, the wife of Christian, that famous pilgrim, 
who, with Faithful his brother, was so shamefully 
handled in our town. At that they stood amazed, say- 
ing, We little thought to see Christiana when Grace 
came to call us ; wherefore this is a very comfortable 
surprise. They then asked her of her welfare, and if 
these young men were her husband^ sons. And when 
she had told them they were, they said, The King 
whom you love and serve make you as your father, and 
bring you where he is in peace. 

Then Mr. Honest (when they had all sat down) 
asked Mr. Contrite and the rest, in what posture their 
town was at present. 

Contr. You maybe sure we are full of hurry in fair- 
time. 'Tis hard keeping our hearts and spirits in good 
order when we are in a cumbered condition. He that 
lives in such a place as this, and has to do with such 
as we have, has need of an item to caution him to take 
heed every moment of the day. 

Hon. But how are your neighbors now for quiet- 
ness? 

Contr. They are much more moderate now than 
formerly. You know how Christian and Faithful were 
used at our town ; but of late, I say, they have been 
far more moderate. I think the blood of Faithful lieth 
as a load upon them until now ; for since they burned 
him, they have been ashamed to burn any more. In 
those days we were afraid to walk the streets ; but now 
we can show our heads. Then the name of a professor 



TALK ABOUT THE CONFLICTS OF CHRISTIANS. 329 

was odious ; now, especially in some parts of our town, 
(for you know our town is large,) religion is counted 
honorable. 

Then said Mr. Contrite to them, Pray how fareth it 
with you in your pilgrimage ? how stands the country 
effected toward you? 

Hon. It happens to us as it happeneth to wayfaring 
men ; sometimes our way is clean, sometimes foul ; 
sometimes up hill, sometimes down hill ; we are seldom 
at a certainty. The wind is not always on our backs, 
nor is every one a friend that we meet with in the way. 
We have met with some notable rubs already, and what 
are yet behind we know not ; but for the most part we 
find it true that has been talked of of old, a good man 
must suffer trouble. 

Contr. You talk of rubs, what rubs have you met 
withal ? 

Hon. Nay, ask Mr. Great-Heart, our guide ; for he 
can give the best account of that. 

Great. We have been beset three or four times 
already. First, Christiana and her children were beset 
by two ruffians, who they feared would take away their 
lives. We were beset by Giant Bloody-Man, Giant 
Maul, and Giant Slay-Good. Indeed, we did rather be- 
set the last than were beset by him. And thus it was : 
after we had been some time at the house of Gaius 
mine host, and of the whole church, we were minded 
upon a time to take our weapons with us, and go and 
see if we could light upon any of those that were 
enemies to pilgrims ; for we heard that there was a 
notable one thereabouts. Now Gaius knew his haunt 
better than I, because he dwelt thereabout. So we 
looked, and looked, till at last we discerned the mouth 
of his cave : then we were glad, and plucked up our 



33° CONVERSATION OF THE PILGRIMS. 

spirits. So we approached up to his den; and lo, 
when we came there, he had dragged, by mere force, 
into his net, this poor man, Mr. Feeble-Mind, and was 
about to bring him to his end. But when he saw us, 
supposing, as we thought, he had had another prey, he 
left the poor man in his hole, and came out. So we 
fell to it full sore, and he lustily laid about him ; but, 
in conclusion, he was brought down to the ground, and 
his head was cut off, and set up by the way-side, for a 
terror to such as should after practise such ungodliness. 
That I tell you the truth, here is the man himself to 
affirm it, who was as a lamb taken out of the mouth of 
the lion. 

Then said Mr. Feeble-Mind, I found this true, to 
my cost and comfort : to my cost, when he threatened 
to pick my bones every moment ; and to my comfort, 
when I saw Mr. Great-Heart and his friends, with their 
weapons, approach so near for my deliverance. 

Then said Mr. Holy-Man, There are two things that 
they have need to possess who go on pilgrimage ; cour- 
age, and an unspotted life. If they have not courage, 
they can never hold on their way ; and if their lives be 
loose, they will make the very name of a pilgrim stink. 

Then said Mr. Love-Saint, I hope this caution is not 
needful among you : but truly there are many that go 
upon the road, who rather declare themselves strangers 
to pilgrimage than strangers and pilgrims on earth. 

Then said Mr. Dare-Not-Lie, 'Tis true, they have 
neither the pilgrim's weed, nor the pilgrim's courage ; 
they go not uprightly, but all awry with their feet ; one 
shoe goeth inward, another outward ; and their hosen 
out behind ; here a rag, and there a rent, to the dis- 
paragement of their Lord. 

These things, said Mr. Penitent, they ought to be 



THE MONSTER. 33 1 

troubled for ; nor are the pilgrims like to have that 
grace upon them and their Pilgrim's Progress as they 
desire, until the way is cleared of such spots and blem- 
ishes. Thus they sat talking and spending the time 
until supper was set upon the table, unto which they 
went, and refreshed their weary bodies : so they went 
to rest. 

Now they stayed in the fair a great while, at the 
house of Mr. Mnason, who in process of time gave his 
daughter Grace unto Samuel, Christiana's son, to wife, 
and his daughter Martha to Joseph. 

The time, as I said, that they stayed here, was long, 
for it was not now as in former times. Wherefore the 
pilgrims grew acquainted with many of the good people 
of the town, and did them what service they could. 
Mercy, as she was wont, labored much for the poor : 
wherefore their bellies and backs blessed her, and she 
was there an ornament to her profession. And, to say 
the truth for Grace, Phebe, and Martha, they were all 
of a very good nature, and did much good in their 
places. They were also all of them very fruitful ; so 
that Christian's name, as was said before, was like to 
live in the world. 

While they lay here there came a monster out of the 
woods, and slew many of the people of the town. It 
would also carry away their children, and teach them 
to suck its whelps. Now no man in the town durst so 
much as face this monster ; but all fled when they heard 
the noise of his coming. 

The monster was like unto no one beast on the earth. 
Its body was like a dragon, and it had seven heads and 
ten horns. It made great havoc of children, and yet 
it was governed by a woman, Rev., xvii., 3. This 
monster propounded conditions to men, and such men 



332 THE MONSTER RETREATS. 

as loved their lives more than their souls accepted of 
those conditions. So they came under. 

Now Mr. Great-Heart, together with those who came 
to visit the pilgrims at Mr. Mnason's house, entered 
into a covenant to go and engage this beast, if perhaps 
they might deliver the people of this town from the 
paws and mouth of this so devouring a serpent. 

Then did Mr. Great-Heart, Mr. Contrite, Mr. Holy- 
Man, Mr. Dare-not-Lie, and Mr. Penitent, with their 
weapons, go forth to meet him. Now the monster at first 
was very rampant, and looked upon these enemies with 
great disdain ; but they so belabored him, being sturdy 
men at arms, that they made him make a retreat : 
so they came home to Mr. Mnason's house again. 

The monster, you must know, had his certain sea- 
sons to come out in, and to make his attempts upon 
the children of the people of the town. At these sea- 
sons did these valiant worthies watch him, and did 
still continually assault him ; insomuch that in process 
of time he became not only wounded, but lame. Also 
he has not made that havoc of the townsmen's children 
as formerly he had done ; and it is verily believed by 
some, that this beast will die of his wounds. 

This, therefore, made Mr. Great-Heart and his fel- 
lows of great fame in this town ; so that many of the 
people that wanted their taste of things, yet had a 
reverent esteem and respect for them. Upon this 
account, therefore, it was, that these pilgrims got not 
much hurt here. True, there were some of the baser 
sort that could see no more than a mole, nor under- 
stand any more than a beast ; these had no reverence 
for these men, and took no notice of their valor and 
adventures. 

Well, the time grew on that the pilgrims must go on 



THE PILGRIMS LEAVE VANITY FAIR. 333 

their way, wherefore they prepared for their journey. 
They sent for their friends ; they conferred with them ; 
they had some time set apart therein to commit each 
other to the protection of their Prince. There were 
again that brought them of such things as they had, that 
were fit for the weak and the strong, for the women and 
the men, and so laded them with such things as were 
necessary, Acts, xxviii., 10. Then they set forward on 
their way ; and their friends accompanying them so far 
as it was convenient, they again committed each other 
to the protection of their King, and departed. 

They, therefore, that were of the pilgrims' company 
went on, and Mr. Great-Heart went before them. Now 
the women and children being weakly, they were forced 
to go as they could bear ; by which means Mr. Ready- 
to-Halt and Mr. Feeble-Mind had more to sympathize 
with their condition. 

When they were gone from the townsmen, and when 
their friends had bid them farewell, they quickly came 
to the place where Faithful was put to death. There- 
fore they made a stand, and thanked Him that had en- 
abled him to bear his cross so well ; and the rather, 
because they now found that they had a benefit by such 
manly sufferings as his were. 

They went on therefore after this a good way further, 
talking of Christian and Faithful, and how Hopeful 
joined himself to Christian after that Faithful was 
dead. 

Now they were come up with the hill Lucre, where 
the silver mine was which took Demas off his pilgrim- 
age, and into which, as some think, By-Ends fell and 
perished ; wherefore they considered that. But when 
they were come to the old monument that stood over 
against the hill Lucre, to wit, to the pillar of salt, that 



334 THE HOUSE FOR LAMBS. 

stood also within view of Sodom and its stinking lake, 
they marvelled, as did Christian before, that men of that 
knowledge and ripeness of wit as they were, should be 
so blind as to turn aside here. Only they considered 
again, that nature is not affected with the harms that 
others have met with, especially if that thing upon 
which they look has an attracting virtue upon the 
foolish eye. 

I saw now that they went on till they came to the 
river that was on this side of the Delectable Mountains ; 
to the river where the fine trees grow on both sides, 
and whose leaves, if taken inwardly, are good against 
surfeits : where the meadows are green all the year 
long; and where they might lie down safely, Ps., 
xxiii., 2. 

By this river side, in the meadows, there were cotes 
and folds for sheep, and a house built for the nourish- 
ing and bringing, up of those lambs, the babes of 
those women that go on pilgrimage. Also there was 
here one that was intrusted with them, who could have 
compassion ; and that could gather these lambs with 
his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead 
those that were with young, Heb., v., 2; Isa., xl., 11. 
Now to the care of this man Christiana admonished 
her four daughters to commit their little ones, that by 
these waters they might be housed, harbored, succored, 
and nourished, and that none of them might be lacking 
in time to come. This man, if any of them go astray, 
or be lost, he will bring them again ; he will also bind 
up that which was broken, and will strengthen them that 
are sick, Jer., xxiii., 4; Ezek., xxxiv., 11-16. Here 
they will never want meat, drink, and clothing ; here 
they will be kept from thieves and robbers ; for this man 
will die before one of those committed to his trust shall 



THE STYLE LEADING TO BY-PATH MEADOW. 335 

be lost. Besides, here they shall be sure to have good 
nurture and admonition, and shall be taught to walk in 
right paths, and that you know is a favor of no small 
account. Also here, as you see, are delicate waters, 
pleasant meadows, dainty flowers, variety of trees, and 
such as bear wholesome fruit ; fruit not like that which 
Matthew ate of, that fell over the wall out of Beelze- 
bub's garden ; but fruit that procure th health where there 
is none, and that continueth and increaseth it where it is. 
So they were content to commit their little ones to him ; 
and that which was also an encouragement to them so 
to do, was, for that all this was to be at the charge of 
the King, and so was as an hospital for young children 
and orphans. 

Now they went on. And when they were come to 
By-path meadow, to the stile over which Christian went 
with his fellow Hopeful, when they were taken by 
Giant Despair and put into Doubting-Castle, they sat 
down, and consulted what was best to be done : to wit, 
now that they were so strong, and had got such a man 
as Mr. Great-Heart for their conductor, whether they 
had not best to make an attempt upon the giant, de- 
molish his castle, and if there were any pilgrims in it, 
to set them at liberty before they went any further. So 
one said one thing, and another said the contrary. 
One questioned if it was lawful to go upon unconse- 
crated ground ; another said they might, provided their 
end was good, but Mr. Great-Heart said, Though that 
assertion offered last cannot be universally true, yet I 
have a commandment to resist sin, to overcome evil, 
to fight the good fight of faith : and I pray, with whom 
should I fight this good fight, if not with Giant Despair? 
1 will therefore attempt the taking away of his life and 
the demolishing of Doubting-Castle. Then said he, 



336 GIANT DESPAIR KILLED. 

Who will go with me? Then said old Honest, I will. 
And so will we too, said Christiana's four sons, Mat- 
thew, Samuel, Joseph, and James ; for they were young 
men and strong, 1 John, ii., 13, 14. So they left the 
women in the road, and with them Mr. Feeble-Mind, 
and Mr. Ready-to-Halt with his crutches, to be their 
guard, until they came back ; for in that place, though 
Giant Despair dwelt so near, they, keeping in the road, 
a little child might lead them, Isa., xi., 6. 

So Mr. Great-Heart, old Honest, and the four young 
men, went to go up to Doubting-Castle, to look for 
Giant Despair. When they came at the castle gate 
they knocked for entrance with an unusual noise. At 
that the old giant comes to the gate, and Diffidence his 
wife follows. Then said he, Who and what is he that 
is so hardy, as after this manner to molest the Giant 
Despair? Mr. Great-Heart replied, It is I, Great-Heart, 
one of the King of the celestial country's conductors of 
pilgrims to their place ; and I demand of thee that thou 
open thy gates for my entrance : prepare thyself also to 
fight, for I am come to take away thy head, and to de- 
molish Doubting-Castle. 

Now Giant Despair, because he was a giant, thought 
no man could overcome him : and again thought he, 
Since heretofore I have made a conquest of angels, 
shall Great-Heart make me afraid? So he harnessed 
himself, and went out. He had a cap of steel upon his 
head, a breast-plate of fire girded to him, and he came 
out in iron shoes, with a great club in his hand. Then 
these six men made up to him, and beset him behind 
and before : also, when Diffidence, the giantess, came up 
to help him, old Mr. Honest cut her down at one blow. 
Then they fought for their lives, and Giant Despair was 
brought down to the ground, but was very loth to die. 



DOUBTING-CASTLE DESTROYED. 337 

He struggled hard, and had, as they say, as many 
lives as a cat ; but Great-Heart was his death, for he 
left him not till he had severed his head from his 
shoulders. 

Then they fell to demolishing Doubting-Castle, and 
that, you know, might with ease be done, since Giant 
Despair was dead. They were seven days in destroy- 
ing of that ; and in it of pilgrims they found one Mr. 
Despondency, almost starved to death, and one Much- 
Afraid, his daughter : these two they saved alive. But 
it would have made you wonder to have seen the dead 
bodies that lay here and there in the castle-yard, and 
how full of dead men's bones the dungeon was. 

When Mr. Great-Heart and his companions had per- 
formed this exploit, they took Mr. Despondency, and 
his daughter Much-Afraid, into their protection ; for 
they were honest people, though they were prisoners 
in Doubting-Castle to that tyrant Giant Despair. They, 
therefore, I say, took with them the head of the giant 
(for his body they had buried under a heap of stones), 
and down to the road and to their companions they 
came, and showed them what they had done. Now 
when Feeble-Mind and Ready-to-Halt saw that it was 
the head of Giant Despair indeed, they were very jo- 
cund and merry. Now Christiana, if need was, could 
play upon the viol, and her daughter Mercy upon the 
lute : so since they were so merry disposed, she played 
them a lesson, and Ready-to-Halt would dance. So he 
took Despondency's daughter, Much-Afraid, by the 
hand, and to dancing they went in the road. True, he 
could not dance without one crutch in his hand, but 1 
promise you he footed it well : also the girl was to be 
commended, for she answered the music handsomely. 

As for Mr. Despondency, the music was not so much 



338 THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS. 

to him ; he was for feeding, rather than dancing, for 
that he was almost starved. So Christiana gave him 
some of her bottle of spirits for present relief, and 
then prepared him something to eat ; and in a little 
time the old gentleman came to himself, and began to 
be finely revived. 

Now I saw in my dream, when all these things were 
finished, Mr. Great-Heart took the head of Giant 
Despair, and set it upon a pole by the highway side, 
right over against the pillar that Christian erected for 
a caution to pilgrims that came after, to take heed of 
entering into his grounds. 

Then he writ under it upon a marble stone these 
verses following : 

This is the head of him whose name only 
In former times did pilgrims terrify. 
His castle's down, and Diffidence his wife 
Brave Mr. Great-Heart has bereft of life. 
Despondency, his daughter Much-Afraid, 
Great-Heart for them also the man has play'd. 
Who hereof doubts, if he'll but cast his eye 
Up hither, may his scruples satisfy. 
This head also, when doubting cripples dance, 
Doth show from fears they have deliverance. 

When these men had thus bravely showed them- 
selves against Doubting-Castle, and had slain Giant 
Despair, they went forward, and went on till they 
came to the Delectable Mountains, where Christian 
and Hopeful refreshed themselves with the varieties of 
the place. They also acquainted themselves with the 
Shepherds there, who welcomed them, as they had 
done Christian before, unto the Delectable Mountains. 

Now the Shepherds seeing so great a train follow 
Mr. Great-Heart (for with him they were well ac- 



THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS. 339 

quainted), they said unto him, Good sir, you have 
got a goodly company here, pray where did you find 
all these? 

Then Mr. Great-Heart replied : 

First, here is Christiana and her train, 
Her sons, and her sons' wives, who like the wain, 
Keep by the pole, and do by compass steer 
From sin to grace, else they had not been here. 
Next here's old Honest come on pilgrimage, 
Ready-to-Halt too, who I dare engage 
True-hearted is, and so is Feeble-Mind, 
Who willing was not to be left behind. 
Despondency, good man, is coming after, 
And so also is Much-Afraid, his daughter. 
May we have entertainment here, or must 
We further go? Let's know whereon to trust. 



Then said the Shepherds, This is a comfortable 
company. You are welcome to us ; for we have 
for the feeble, as well as for the strong. Our 
Prince has an eye to what is done to the least of these ; 
therefore infirmity must not be a block to our enter- 
tainment, Matt., xxv., 40. So they had them to the 
palace door, and then said unto them, Come in, Mr. 
Feeble-Mind ; come in, Mr. Ready-to-Halt ; come in, 
Mr. Despondency, and Mrs. Much- Afraid his daughter. 
These, Mr. Great-Heart, said the Shepherds to the 
guide, we call in by name, for that they are most sub- 
ject to draw back; but as for you, and the rest that 
are strong, we leave you to your wonted liberty. Then 
said Mr. Great-Heart, This day I see that grace doth 
shine in your faces, and that you are my Lord's Shep- 
herds indeed : for that you have not pushed these dis- 
eased neither with side nor shoulder, but have rather 



340 MOUNT MARVEL — MOUNT INNOCENCE. 

strewed their way into the palace with flowers, as you 
should, Ezek., xxxiv., 21. 

So the feeble and weak went in, and Mr. Great- 
Heart and the rest did follow. When they were also 
set down the Shepherds said to those of the weaker 
sort, What is it that you would have? for, said they, 
all things must be managed here for the supporting of 
the weak, as well as to the warning of the unruly. So 
they made them a feast of things easy of digestion, and 
that were pleasant to the palate, and nourishing ; the 
which when they had received, they went to their rest, 
each one respectively unto his proper place. 

When morning was come, because the mountains 
were high and the day clear, and because it was the 
custom of the Shepherds to show the pilgrims before 
their departure some rarities, therefore after they were 
ready, and had refreshed themselves, the Shepherds 
took them out into the fields, and showed them first 
what they had shown to Christian before. 

Then they had them to some new places. The first 
was Mount Marvel, where they looked, and beheld a 
man at a distance that tumbled the hills about with 
words. Then they asked the Shepherds what that 
should mean. So they told them, that the man was 
the son of one Mr. Great-Grace, of whom you read in 
the first part of the records of the Pilgrim's Progress ; 
and he is set there to teach pilgrims how to believe 
down, or to tumble out of their ways, what difficulties 
they should meet with, by faith, Mark, xi., 23, 24. 
Then said Mr. Great-Heart, I know him, he is a man 
above many. 

Then they had them to another place, called Mount 
Innocence. And there they saw a man clothed all in 
white ; and two men, Prejudice and Ill-Will continually 



MOUNT CHARITY — FOOL AND WANT-WIT. 34I 

casting dirt upon him. Now behold, the dirt, whatso- 
ever they cast at him, would in a little time fall off 
again, and his garment would look as clear as if no dirt 
had been cast thereat. Then said the pilgrims, What 
means this? The Shepherds answered, This man is 
named Godly-Man, and this garment is to show the 
innocency of his life. Now those that throw dirt at 
him are such as hate his well-doing ; but, as you see, 
the dirt will not stick upon his clothes, so it shall be 
with him that liveth innocently in the world. Whoever 
they be that would make such men dirty, they labor 
all in vain ; for God, by that a little time is spent, will 
cause that their innocence shall break forth as the 
light, and their righteousness as the noon-day. 

Then they took them, and had them to Mount Char- 
ity, where they showed them a man that had a bundle 
of cloth lying before him, out of which he cut coats 
and garments for the poor that stood about him ; yet 
his bundle or roll of cloth was never the less. 
Then said they, What should this be? This is, said 
the Shepherds, to show you, that he who has a heart 
to give of his labor to the poor, shall never want where- 
withal. He that watereth, shall be watered himself. 
And the cake that the widow gave to the prophet did 
not cause that she had the less in her barrel. 

They had them also to the place where they saw one 
Fool, and one Want-Wit, washing an Ethiopian, with 
an intention to make him white ; but the more they 
washed him the blacker he was. Then they asked 
the Shepherds what that should mean. So they told 
them, saying, Thus it is with the vile person ; all means 
used to get such a one a good name, shall, in con- 
clusion, tend but to make him more abominable. Thus 
it was with the Pharisees ; and so it shall be with all 
hypocrites. 



342 MERCY LONGS FOR A LOOKING-GLASS. 

Then said Mercy, the wife of Matthew, to Christiana 
her mother, Mother, I would, if it might be, see the 
hole in the hill, or that commonly called the by-way 
to hell. So her mother brake her mind to the Shep- 
herds. Then they went to the door; it was on the 
side of an hill ; and they opened it, and bid Mercy 
hearken a-while. So she hearkened, and heard one 
saying, Cursed be my father for holding of my feet 
back from the way of peace and life. Another said, 
Oh, that I had been torn in pieces before I had, to save 
my life, lost my soul ! And another said, If I were to 
live again, how would 1 deny myself rather than come 
to this place ! Then there was as if the very earth 
groaned and quaked under the feet of this young 
woman for fear ; so she looked white, and came trem- 
bling away, saying, Blessed be he and she that is deliv- 
ered from this place ! 

Now when the Shepherds had shown them all these 
things, then they had them back to the palace, and 
entertained them with what the house would afford. 
But Mercy, being a young and married woman, longed 
for something that she saw there, but was ashamed to 
ask. Her mother-in-law then asked her what she ailed, 
for she looked as one not well. Then said Mercy, 
There is a looking-glass hangs up in the dining-room, 
off which I cannot take my mind ; if, therefore, I have 
it not, I think I shall miscarry. Then said her mother, 
I will mention thy wants to the Shepherds, and they 
will not deny it thee. But she said, I am ashamed 
that these men should know that I longed. Nay, my 
daughter, said she, it is no shame, but a virtue, to long 
for such a thing as that. So Mercy said, Then, 
mother, if you please, ask the Shepherds if they are 
willing to sell it. 



THE GIFTS OF THE SHEPHERDS. 343 

Now the glass was one of a thousand. It would 
present a man, one way, with his own features exactly; 
and turn it but another way, and it would show one 
the very face and similitude of the Prince of pilgrims 
himself. Yes, I have talked with them that can tell, 
and they have said that they have seen the very crown 
of thorns upon his head by looking in that glass ; they 
have therein also seen the holes in his hands, his feet, 
and his sides. Yea, such an excellency is there in this 
glass, that it will show him to one where they have a 
mind to see him ;. whether living or dead ; whether in 
earth. or in heaven ; whether in a state of humiliation or 
in his exaltation ; whether coming to suffer or coming 
to reign, James, i., 23 ; 1 Cor., xiii., 12 ; 2 Cor., iii., 18. 

Christiana therefore went to the Shepherds apart : 
now the names of the Shepherds were Knowledge, 
Experience, Watchful, and Sincere, and said unto 
them, There is one of my daughters, a married woman, 
that I think doth long for something that she hath seen 
in this house ; and she thinks that she shall miscarry if 
she should by you be denied. 

Experience. Call her, call her, she shall assuredly 
have what we can help her to. 

So they called her, and said to her, Mercy, what is 
that thing thou wouldst have? Then she blushed, and 
said, The great glass that hangs up in the dining-room. 
So Sincere ran and fetched it, and with a joyful con- 
sent it was given her. 

Then she bowed her head, and gave thanks, and 
said, By this I know that I have obtained favor in your 
eyes. 

They also gave to the other young women such 
things as they desired, and to their husbands great com- 
mendations, for that they had joined with Mr. Great- 



344 ONE TURN- A WAY. 

Heart in the slaying Giant Despair, and the demolish- 
ing of Doubting-Castle. 

About Christiana's neck the Shepherds put a bracelet, 
and so they did about the necks of her four daughters ; 
also they put ear-rings in their ears, and jewels on their 
foreheads. 

When they were minded to go hence, they let them 
go in peace, but gave not to them those certain cau- 
tions which before were given to Christian and hi? 
companion. The reason was, for that these had 
Great-Heart to be their guide, who was one that was 
well acquainted with things, and so could give them 
their cautions more seasonably, to wit, even when the 
danger was nigh the approaching. What cautions 
Christian and his companion had received of the Shep- 
herds, they had also lost by that the time was come 
that they had need to put them in practice. Where- 
fore, here was the advantage that this company had 
over the other. 

From thence they went on singing, and they said : 

Behold how fitly are the stages set 

For their relief that pilgrims are become, 

And how they us receive without one let, 

That make the other life our mark and home ! 

What novelties they have to us they give, 
That we, though pilgrims, joyful lives may live. 
They do upon us too, such things bestow, 
That show we pilgrims are where'er we go. 

When they were gone from the Shepherds they 
quickly came to the place where Christian met with one 
Turn-Away that dwelt in the town of Apostacy. 
Wherefore of him Mr. Great-Heart, their guide, did now 



VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH ASSAILED. 345 

put them in mind, saying, This is the place where 
Christian met with one Turn-Away, who carried with 
him the character of his rebellion at his back. And 
this I have to say concerning this man : he would 
hearken to no counsel, but once a-falling, persuasion 
could not stop him. When he came to the place where 
the cross and sepulchre were, he did meet with one 
that bid him look there ; but he gnashed with his teeth, 
and stamped, and said he was resolved to go back to his 
own town. Before he came to the gate he met with 
Evangelist, who offered to lay hands on him, to turn 
him into the way again ; but this Turn-Away resisted 
him, and having done much despite unto him, he got 
away over the wall, and so escaped his hand. 

Then they went on ; and just at the place where 
Little-Faith formerly was robbed, there stood a man 
with his sword drawn, and his face all over with blood. 
Then said Mr. Great-Heart, Who art thou? The man 
made answer, saying, I am one whose name is Valiant- 
for-Truth. I am a pilgrim, and am going to the 
Celestial City. Now, as I was in my way, there were 
three men did beset me, and propounded unto me these 
three things: 1. Whether I would become one of 
them. 2. Or go back from whence I came. 3. Or 
die upon the place, Prov., i., 11-14. To the first I 
answered, I had been a true man for a long season, and 
therefore it could not be expected that I should now 
cast in my lot with thieves. Then they demanded 
what I would say to the second. So I told them the 
place from whence I came, had I not found incommod- 
ity there, I had not forsaken it at all ; but finding it 
altogether unsuitable to me, and very unprofitable for 
me, I forsook it for this way. Then they asked me 
what I said to the third. And I told them my life cost 



346 HIS VICTORY — HIS SWORD. 

far more dear than that I should lightly give it away. 
Besides, you have nothing to do thus to put things to 
my choice; wherefore at your peril be it if you meddle. 
Then these three, to wit, Wild-Head, Inconsiderate, and 
Pragmatick, drew upon me, and I also drew upon them. 
So we fell to it, one against three, for the space of 
above three hours. They have left upon me, as you 
see, some of the marks of their valor, and have also 
carried away with them some of mine. They are but 
just now gone : I suppose they might, as the saying 
is, hear your horse dash, and so they betake them 
to flight. 

Great. But here was great odds, three against 
one. 

Valiant. 'Tis true ; but little or more are nothing 
to him that has the truth on his side: "Though an 
host should encamp against me," said one, Ps., xxvii., 
3, "my heart shall not fear: though war shall rise 
against me, in this will I be confident," etc. Besides, 
said he, I have read in some records that one man has 
fought an army : and how many did Samson slay with 
the jawbone of an ass ! 

Then said the guide, Why did you not cry out, that 
some might have come in for your succor? 

Valiant. So I did to my King, who I knew could 
hear me, and afford invisible help, and that was suffi- 
cient for me. 

Then said Great-Heart to Mr. Valiant-for-Truth, 
thou hast worthily behaved thyself; let me see thy 
sword. So he showed it him. 

When he had taken it in his hand, and looked 
thereon a while, he said, Ha! it is a right Jerusalem 
blade. 

Valiant. It is so. Let a man have one of these 



TALK OF VALIANT AND GREAT-HEART. 347 

blades, with a hand to wield it, and skill to use it, and 
he may venture upon an angel with it. He need not 
fear its holding, if he can but tell how to lay on. Its 
edge will never blunt. It will cut flesh and bones, and 
soul, and spirit, and all, Heb., iv., 12. 

Great. But you fought a great while ; I wonder you 
was not weary. 

Valiant. I fought till my sword did cleave to my 
hand ; and then they were joined together as if a sword 
grew out of my arm ; and when the blood ran through 
my fingers, then I fought with most courage. 

Great. Thou hast done well ; thou hast resisted 
unto blood, striving against sin. Thou shalt abide by 
us, come in and go out with us ; for we are thy com- 
panions. Then took they him and washed his wounds, 
and gave him of what they had, to refresh him : and 
so they went together. 

Now as they went on, because Mr. Great-Heart was 
delighted in him, (for he loved one greatly that he 
found to be a man of his hands,) and because there 
were in company them that were feeble and weak, there- 
fore he questioned with him about many things ; as 
first, what countryman he was. 

Valiant. I am of Dark-Land ; for there I was born, 
and there my father and mother are still. 

Great. Dark-Land ! said the guide ; doth not that 
lie on the same coast with the City of Destruction? 

Valiant. Yes, it doth. Now that which caused me 
to come on pilgrimage was this. We had one Mr. 
Tell-True come into our parts, and he told it about 
what Christian had done, that went from the City of 
Destruction ; namely, how he had forsaken his wife 
and children, and had betaken himself to a pilgrim's 
life. It was also confidently reported how he had 



348 TALK OF VALIANT AND GREAT-HEART. 

killed a serpent that did come out to resist him in his 
journey ; and how he got through to whither he 
intended. It was also told what welcome he had at all 
his Lord's lodgings, especially when he came to the 
gates of the Celestial City ; for there, said the man, he 
was received with sound of trumpet by a company of 
Shining Ones. He told also how all the bells in the 
city did ring for joy at his reception, and what golden 
garments he was clothed with ; with many other things 
that now I shall forbear to relate. In a word, that man 
so told the story of Christian and his travels, that my 
heart fell into a burning haste to be gone after him ; 
nor could father or mother stay me. So I got from 
them, and am come thus far on my way. 

Great. You came in at the gate, did you not? 

Valiant. Yes, yes ; for the same man also told us, 
that all would be nothing if we did not begin to enter 
this way at the gate. 

Look you, said the guide to Christiana, the pilgrim- 
age of your husband, with what he has gotten thereby, 
is spread abroad far and near. 

Valiant. Why, is this Christian's wife? 

Great. Yes, that it is ; and these also are his four 
sons. 

Valiant. What, and going on pilgrimage too? 

Great. Yes, verily, they are following after. 

Valiant. It glads me at the heart. Good man, 
how joyful will he be when he shall see them that would 
not go with him, yet to enter after him in at the gates 
into the Celestial City. 

Great. Without doubt it will be a comfort to him ; 
for next to the joy of seeing himself there, it will be a 
joy to meet there his wife and children. 

Valiant. But now you are upon that, pray let me 



TALK OF VALIANT AND GREAT-HEART. 349 

hear your opinion about it. Some make a question 
whether we shall know one another when we are there. 

Great. Do you think they shall know themselves 
then, or that they shall rejoice to see themselves in 
that bliss ? and if they think they shall know and do 
this, why not know others, and rejoice in their welfare 
also ? Again, since relations are our second self, though 
that state will be dissolved there, yet why may it not 
be rationally concluded that we shall be more glad to 
see them there than to see they are wanting? 

Valiant. Well, 1 perceive whereabouts you are as 
to this. Have you any more things to ask me about 
my beginning to come on pilgrimage? 

Great. Yes ; were your father and mother willing 
that you should become a pilgrim? 

Valiant. O no ; they used all means imaginable to 
persuade me to stay at home. 

Great. Why, what could they say against it? 

Valiant. They said it was an idle life ; and if I 
myself were not inclined to sloth and laziness, I would 
never countenance a pilgrim's condition. 

Great. And what did they say else? 

Valiant. Why, they told me that it was a danger- 
ous way ; yea, the most dangerous way in the world, 
said they, is that which the pilgrims go. 

Great. Did they show you wherein this way is so 
dangerous ? 

Valiant. Yes ; and that in many particulars. 

Great. Name some of them. 

Valiant. They told me of the Slough of Despond, 
where Christian was well nigh smothered. They told 
me that there were archers standing ready in Beelze- 
bub-Castle to shoot them who should knock at the 
Wicket-Gate for entrance. They told me also of the 



350 TALK OF VALIANT AND GREAT-HEART. 

wood and dark mountains ; of the hill Difficulty ; of the 
lions ; and also of the three giants, Bloody-Man, Maul, 
and Slay-Good. They said, moreover, that there was 
a foul fiend haunted the Valley of Humiliation ; and 
that Christian was by him almost bereft of life. Be- 
sides, said they, you must go over the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death, where the hobgoblins are, where the 
light is darkness, where the way is full of snares, 
pits, traps, and gins. They told me also of Giant 
Despair, of Doubting-Castle, and of the ruin that the 
pilgrims met with there. Further, they said 1 must go 
over the Enchanted Ground, which was dangerous ; 
and that after all this I should find a river, over which 
there was no bridge ; and that that river did lie be- 
twixt me and the Celestial Country. 

Great. And was this all? 

Valiant. No. They also told me that this way was 
full of deceivers, and of persons that lay in wait there 
to turn good men out of the path. 

Great. But how did they make that out? 

Valiant. They told me that Mr. Wordly-Wiseman 
did lie there in wait to deceive. They said also, that 
there were Formality and Hypocrisy continually on 
the road. They said also, that By-Ends, Talkative, 
or Demas, would go near to gather me up ; that the 
Flatterer would catch me in his net ; or that, with 
green-headed Ignorance, I would presume to go on to 
the gate, from whence he was sent back to the hole 
that was in the side of the hill, and made to go the by- 
way to hell. 

Great. I promise you this was enough to discour- 
age you ; but did they make an end here ? 

Valiant. No, stay. They told me also of many 
that had tried that way of old, and that had gone a 



TALK OF VALIANT AND GREAT-HEART. 35 1 

great way therein, to see if they could find something 
of the glory there that so many had so much talked of 
from time to time, and how they came back again, and 
befooled themselves for setting a foot out of doors in 
that path, to the satisfaction of the country. And they 
named several that did so, as Obstinate and Pliable, 
Mistrust and Timorous, Turn-Away, and old Atheist, 
with several more ; who, they said, had some of them 
gone far to see what they could find, but not one of 
them had found so much advantage by going as 
amounted to the weight of a feather. 

Great. Said they anything more to discourage you? 

Valiant. Yes. They told me of one Mr. Fearing, 
who was a pilgrim, and how he found his way so soli- 
tary that he never had a comfortable hour therein ; also, 
that Mr. Despondency had like to have been starved 
therein: yea, and also (which I had almost forgot), 
that Christian himself, about whom there has been 
such a noise, after all his adventures for a Celestial 
Crown, was certainly drowned in the Black River, and 
never went a foot further ; however it was smothered 
up. 

Great. And did none of these things discourage 
you? 

Valiant. No ; they seemed but as so many noth- 
things to me. 

Great. How came that about? 

Valiant. Why, I still believed what Mr. Tell-True 
had said; and that carried me beyond them all. 

Great. Then this was your victory, even your faith. 

Valiant. It was so. I believed, and therefore 
came out, got into the way, fought all that set them- 
selves against me, and, by believing, am come to this 
place. 



352 THE PILGRIM'S SONG. 

Who would true valor see, 

Let him come hither ; 
One here will constant be, 

Come wind, come weather ; 
There's no discouragement 
Shall make him once relent 
His first avow'd intent 

To be a pilgrim. 

Whoso beset him round 

With dismal stories, 
Do but themselves confound ; 

His strength the more is 
No lion can him fright, 
He'll with a giant fight, 
But he will have a right 

To be a pilgrim. 

Hobgoblin nor foul fiend 

Can daunt his spirit ; 
He knows he at the end 

Shall life inherit. 
Then fancies fly away, 
He'll not fear what men say ; 
He'll labor night and day 

To be a pilgrim. 

By this time they were got to the Enchanted Ground, 
where the air naturally tended to make one drowsy. 
And that place was all grown over with briers and 
thorns, excepting here and there, where was an en- 
chanted arbor, upon which if a man sits, or in which if a 
man sleeps, it is a question, some say, whether ever 
he shall rise or wake again in this world. Over this 
forest, therefore, they went both one and another, and 
Mr. Great-Heart went before, for that he was the 
guide ; and Mr. Valiant-for-Truth came behind, being 
rear-guard, for fear lest peradventure some fiend, or 



THE ENCHANTED GROUND. 353 

dragon, or giant or thief, should fall upon their rear, 
and so do mischief. They went on here, each man 
with his sword drawn in his hand ; for they knew it 
was a dangerous place. Also they cheered up one 
another as well as they could. Feeble-Mind, Mr. 
Great-Heart commanded, should come up after him ; 
and Mr. Despondency was under the eye of Mr. Valiant. 

Now they had not gone far, but a great mist and 
darkness fell upon them all ; so that they could scarce, 
for a great while, the one see the other ; wherefore 
they were forced, for some time, to feel for one another 
by words ; for they walked not by sight. But any one 
must think, that here was but sorry going for the best 
of them all ; but how much worse for the women and 
children, who both of feet and heart were but tender ! 
Yet so it was, that through the encouraging words of 
him that led in the front, and of him that brought them 
up behind, they made a pretty good shift to wag along. 

The way was also here very wearisome, through dirt 
and slabbiness. Nor was there, on all this ground, so 
much as one inn or victualling-house wherein to refresh 
the feebler sort. Here, therefore, was nothing but 
grunting, and puffing, and sighing, while one tumbleth 
over a bush, another sticks fast in the dirt, and the 
children, some of them, lost their shoes in the mire; 
while one cries out, I am down ; and another, Ho, 
where are you? and a third, The bushes have got such 
fast hold on me I think I cannot get away from them. 

Then they came at an arbor, warm, and promising 
much refreshing to the pilgrims; for it was finely 
wrought above head, beautified with greens, furnished 
with benches and settles. It also had in it a soft 
couch, whereon the weary might lean. This, you must 
think, all things considered, was tempting; for the 



354 THE ARBOR — THE MAP. 

pilgrims already began to be foiled with the badness 
of the way : but there was not one of them that made 
so much as a motion to stop there. Yea, for aught I 
could perceive, they continually gave so good heed to 
the advice of their guide, and he did so faithfully tell 
them of dangers, and of the nature of the dangers 
when they were at them, that usually when they were 
nearest to them, they did most pluck up their spirits, 
and hearten one another to deny the flesh. This arbor 
was called The Slothful's Friend, and was made on 
purpose to allure, if it might be, some of the pilgrims 
there to take up their rest, when weary. 

I saw then in my dream, that they went on in this 
their solitary ground till they came to a place at which a 
man is apt to lose his way. Now though when it was 
light their guide could well enough tell how to miss 
those ways that led wrong, yet in the dark he was put 
to a stand. But he had in his pocket a map of all 
ways leading to or from the Celestial City ; wherefore 
he struck a light (for he never goes without his tinder- 
box), and takes a view of his book or map, which 
bids him to be careful in that place to turn to the right 
hand. And had he not been careful here to look in 
his map, they had, in all probability, been smothered 
in the mud ; for just a little before them, and that at 
the end of the cleanest way too, was a pit, none knows 
how deep, full of nothing but mud, there made on 
purpose to destroy the pilgrims in. 

Then thought I with myself, Who that goeth on 
pilgrimage but would have one of these maps about 
him, that he may look, when he is at a stand, which is 
the way he must take. 

Then they went on in this Enchanted Ground till 
they came to where there was another arbor, and it 



HEEDLESS AND TOO-BOLD ASLEEP. 355 

was built by the highway-side. And in that arbor 
there lay two men, whose names were Heedless and 
Too-Bold. These two went thus far on pilgrimage; 
but here, being wearied with their journey, they sat 
down to rest themselves, and so fell fast asleep. When 
the pilgrims saw them, they stood still, and shook 
their heads ; for they knew that the sleepers were in a 
pitiful case. Then they consulted what to do, whether 
to go on and leave them in their sleep, or to step to 
them and try to awake them ; so they concluded to go 
to them and try to awake them ; that is, if they could ; 
but with this caution, namely, to take heed that they* 
themselves did not sit down nor embrace the offered 
benefit of that arbor. 

So they went in, and spake to the men and called 
each by his name, for the guide, it seems, did know 
them ; but there was no voice nor answer. Then the 
guide did shake them, and do what he could to disturb 
them. Then said one of them, I will pay you when I 
take my money. At which the guide shook his head. 
I will fight so long as I can hold my sword in my hand, 
said the other. At that, one of the children laughed. 

Then said Christiana, What is the meaning of this? 
The guide said, They talk in their sleep. If you strike 
them, beat them, or whatever else you do to them, they 
will answer you after this fashion ; or as one of them 
said in old time, when the waves of the sea did beat 
upon him, and he slept as one upon the mast of a ship, 
Prow, xxiii., 34, 35 : When shall I awake? I will seek 
It yet again. You know when men talk in their sleep 
they say anything ; and their words are not governed 
either by faith or reason. There is an incoherence in 
their words now, as there was before betwixt their 
going on pilgrimage and sitting down here. This, 



356 THE ENCHANTED GROUND. 

then, is the mischief of it; when heedless ones go on 
pilgrimage 'tis twenty to one but they are served thus. 
For this Enchanted Ground is one of the last refuges 
that the enemy to pilgrims has ; wherefore it is, as you 
see, placed almost at the end of the way, and so it 
standeth against us with the more advantage. For 
when, thinks the enemy, will these fools be so desirous 
to sit down as when they are weary? and when so like to 
be weary as when almost at their journey's end? 
Therefore it is, I say, that the Enchanted Ground is 
placed so nigh to the land Beulah, and so near the 
lend of their race. Wherefore let pilgrims look to 
themselves, lest it happen to them as it has done to 
these that, as you see, are fallen asleep, and none can 
awake them. 

Then the pilgrims desired, with trembling, to go 
forward ; only they prayed their guide to strike a light, 
that they might go the rest of their way by the help of 
the light of a lantern. So they struck a light, and 
they went by the help of that through the rest of this 
way, though the darkness was very great, 2 Pet., i., 19. 
But the children began to be sorely weary, and they 
cried out unto Him that loveth pilgrims to make their 
way more comfortable. So by that they had gone a 
little further a wind arose that drove away the fog, so 
the air became more clear. Yet they were not off (by 
much) of the Enchanted Ground ; only now they 
could see one another, and the way wherein they should 
walk. 

Now, when they were almost at the end of this* 
ground, they perceived that a little before them was a 
solemn noise as of one that was much concerned. So 
they went on, and looked before them : and behold 
they saw, as they thought, a man upon his knees, with 



STANDFAST JOINS THEM. 357 

hands and eyes lifted up, and speaking, as they thought, 
earnestly to one that was above. They drew nigh, but 
could not tell what he said ; so they went softly till he 
had done. When he had done he got up, and began 
to run toward the Celestial City. Then Mr. Great- 
Heart called after him, saying, Soho, friend ! let us 
have your company, if you go, as I suppose you do, to 
the Celestial City. So the man stopped, and they came 
up to him. But as soon as Mr. Honest saw him he 
said, I know this man. Then said Mr. Valiant-for- 
Truth, Prythee, who is it? It is one, said he, that 
comes from where-about I dwelt. His name is Stand- 
fast ; he is certainly a right good pilgrim. 

So they came up one to another ; and presently 
Standfast said to old Honest, Ho, father Honest, are 
you there? Ay, said he, that I am, as sure as you are 
there. Right glad am I, said Mr. Standfast, that I 
have found you on this road. And as glad am I, said 
the other, that I espied you on your knees. Then Mr. 
Standfast blushed, and said, But why, did you see me? 
Yes, that I did, quoth the other, and with my heart was 
glad at the sight. Why, what did you think? said 
Standfast. Think ! said old Honest ; what should I 
think? I thought we had an honest man upon the road 
and therefore should have his company by and by. If 
you thought not amiss, said Standfast, how happy am 
I ! But if I be not as I should, 'tis I alone must bear 
it. That is true, said the other ; but your fear doth 
further confirm me that things are right betwixt the 
Prince of pilgrims and your soul. For he saith, 
" Blessed is the man that feareth always, 11 Prov., 
xxviii., 14. 

Valiant. Well but, brother, I pray thee tell us 
what was it that was the cause of thy being upon thy 



358 WHY STANDFAST PRAYS. 

knees even now ; was it for that some special mercy 
laid obligations upon thee, or how? 

Stand. Why, we are, as you see, upon the Enchanted 
Ground ; and as I was coming along, I was musing 
with myself of what a dangerous nature the road in 
this place was, and how many that had come even thus 
far on pilgrimage had here been stopped and been 
destroyed. I thought also of the manner of the death 
with which this place destroyeth men. Those that die 
here, die of no violent distemper : the death which 
such die is not grievous to them. For he that goeth 
away in a sleep, begins that journey with desire and 
pleasure. Yea, such acquiesce in the will of that 
disease. 

Then Mr. Honest, interrupting him, said, Did you 
see the two men asleep in the arbor? 

Stand. Ay, ay, I saw -Heedless and Too-Bold there ; 
and for aught I know, there they will lie till they rot, 
Prov., x., 7. But let me go on with my tale. As I 
was thus musing, as I said, there was one in very 
pleasant attire, but old, who presented herself to me, 
and offered me three things, to wit, her body, her 
purse, and her bed. Now the truth is, I was both 
weary and sleepy. I am also as poor as an owlet, and 
that perhaps the witch knew. Well, I repulsed her 
once and again, but she put by my repulses, and smiled. 
Then I began to be angry; but she mattered that 
nothing at all. Then she made offers again, and said 
if I would be ruled by her, she would make me great 
and happy ; for, said she, I am the mistress of the 
world, and men are made happy by me. Then I 
asked her name, and she told me it was Madam Bubble. 
This set me further from her ; but she still followed me 
with enticements. Then I betook me, as you saw, to 



MADAM BUBBLE'S TEMPTATIONS. 359 

my knees, and with hands lifted up, and cries, I prayed 
to Him that had said he would help. So just as you 
came up the gentlewoman went her way. Then I con- 
tinued to give thanks for this my great deliverance ; 
for I verily believe she intended no good, but rather 
sought to make stop of me in my journey. 

Hon. Without doubt her designs were bad. But, 
stay, now you talk of her, methinks I either have seen 
her, or have read some story of her. 

Stand. Perhaps you have done both. 

Hon. Madam Bubble! Is she not a tall, comely 
dame, somewhat of a swarthy complexion? 

Stand. Right, you hit it ; she is just such a one. 

Hon. Doth she not speak very smoothly, and give 
you a smile at the end of a sentence? 

Stand. You fall right upon it again, for these are 
her very actions. 

Hon. Doth she not wear a great purse by her side, 
and is not her hand often in it, fingering her money, as 
if that was her heart's delight? 

Stand. 'Tis just so ; had she stood by all this while 
you could not more amply have set her forth before me, 
nor have better described her features. 

Hon. Then he that drew her picture was a good 
limner, and he that wrote of her said true. 

Great. This woman is a witch, and it is by virtue 
of her sorceries that this ground is enchanted. Who- 
ever doth lay his head down in her lap, had as good 
lay it down on that block over which the axe doth 
hang ; and whoever lay their eyes upon her beauty are 
counted the enemies of God. This is she that main- 
taiheth in their splendor all those that are the enemies 
of pilgrims, James, iv., 4. Yea, this is she that hath 
bought off many a man from a pilgrim's life. She is 



360 MADAM BUBBLE'S TEMPTATIONS. 

a great gossiper ; she is always, both she and her 
daughters, at one pilgrim's heels or another, now com- 
mending, and then preferring the excellences of this 
life. She is a bold and impudent slut : she will talk 
with any man. She always laugheth poor pilgrims to 
scorn, but highly commends the rich. If there be one 
cunning to get money in a place, she will speak well 
of him from house to house. She loveth banquetting 
and feasting mainly well ; she is always at one full 
table or another. She has given it out in some places 
that she is a goddess, and therefore some do worship 
her. She has her time, and open places of cheating ; 
and she will say and avow it, that none can show a 
good comparable to hers. She promiseth to dwell with 
children's children, if they will but love her and make 
much of her. She will cast out of her purse gold like 
dust in some places and to some persons. She loves 
to be sought after, spoken well of, and to lie in the 
bosoms of men. She is never weary of commending 
her commodities, and she loves them most that thinks 
best of her. She will promise to some crowns and 
kingdoms if they will but take her advice ; yet many 
hath she brought to the halter, and ten thousand times 
more to hell. 

Oh ! said Standfast, what a mercy is it that I did 
resist her ; for whither might she have drawn me ! 

Great. Whither? nay, none but God knows 
whither. But in general, to be sure, she would have 
drawn thee into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which 
drown men in destruction and perdition, 1 Tim., vi., 
9. ' Twas she that set Absalom against his father, and 
Jeroboam against his master. 'Twas she that per- 
suaded Judas to sell his Lord ; and that prevailed with 
Demas to forsake the godly pilgrim's life. None can 



THE LAND OF BEULAH. 361 

tell of the mischief that she doth. She makes variance 
betwixt rulers and subjects, betwixt parents and chil- 
dren, betwixt neighbor and neighbor, betwixt a man 
and his wife, betwixt a man and himself, betwixt the 
flesh and the spirit. Wherefore, good Mr. Standfast, 
be as your name is, and when you have done all, 
stand. 

At this discourse there was. among the pilgrims a 
mixture of joy and trembling; but at length they broke 
out and sang : 

What danger is the pilgrim in ! 

How many are his foes ! 
How many ways there are to sin 

No living mortal knows. 

Some in the ditch are spoiled, yea, can 

Lie tumbling in the mire : 
Some, though they shun the frying-pan, 

Do leap into the fire. 

After this I beheld until they were come into the 
land of Beulah, where the sun shineth night and day. 
Here, because they were weary, they betook them- 
selves awhile to rest. And because this country was 
common for pilgrims, and because the orchards and 
vineyards that were here belonged to the King of the 
Celestial Country, therefore they were licensed to make 
bold with any of his things. But a little while soon 
refreshed them here ; for the bells did so ring, and the 
trumpets continually sounded so melodiously, that 
they could not sleep, and yet they received as much 
refreshing as if they had slept their sleep ever so 
soundly. Here also all the noise of them that walked 
the streets was, More D'lgrims are come to town! and 



362 THE LAND OF BEULAH. 

another would answer, saying, And so many went over 
the water, and were let in at the golden gates to-day ! 
They would cry again, There is now a legion of Shining 
Ones just come to town, by which we know that there 
are more pilgrims upon the road ; for here they come 
to wait for them, and to comfort them after their 
sorrow ! Then the pilgrims got up, and walked to and 
fro. But how were their ears now filled with heavenly 
voices, and their eyes delighted with Celestial visions ! 
In this land they heard nothing, saw nothing, felt 
nothing, smelt nothing, tasted nothing that was offen- 
sive to their stomach or mind ; only when they tasted 
of the water of the river over which they were 
to go, they thought that it tasted a little bitterish to 
the palate ; but it proved sweet when it was down. 

In this place there was a record kept of the names 
of them that had been pilgrims of old, and a history 
of all the famous acts that they had done. It was here 
also much discoursed, how the river to some had had 
its flowings, and what ebbings it has had while others 
have gone over. It has been in a manner dry for some, 
while it has overflowed its banks for others. 

In this place the children of the town would go into 
the King's gardens, and gather nosegays for the pil- 
grims, and bring them to them with much affection. 
Here also grew camphire, with spikenard and saffron, 
calamus, and cinnamon, with all the trees of frankin- 
cense, myrrh, and aloes, with all chief spices. With 
these the pilgrims 1 chambers were perfumed while they 
stayed here ; and with these were their bodies anointed, 
to prepare them to go over the river, when the time 
appointed was come. 

Now while they lay here, and waited for the good 
hour, there was a noise in the town that there was a 



A MESSENGER TO CHRISTIANA. 363 

post come from the Celestial City, with matter of great 
importance to one Christiana, the wife of Christian the 
pilgrim. So inquiry was made for her ; the house was 
found out where she was. So the post presented her 
with a letter. The contents were, Hail, good woman ; 
I bring thee tidings that the Master calleth for thee, 
and expects that thou shouldst stand in his presence 
in clothes of immortality within these ten days. 

When he had read this letter to her he gave her 
therewith a sure token that he was a true messenger, 
and was come to bid her make haste to be gone. The 
token was, an arrow with a point sharpened with love, 
let easily into her heart, which by degrees wrought so 
effectually with her, that at the time appointed she must 
be gone. 

When Christiana saw that her time was come, and 
that she was the first of this company that was to go 
over, she called for Mr. Great-Heart her guide, and 
told him how matters were. So he told her he was 
heartily glad of the news, and could have been glad 
had the post come for him. Then she bid him that 
he should give advice how all things should be pre- 
pared for her journey. So he told her, saying, Thus 
and thus it must be, and we that survive will accom- 
pany you to the river side. 

Then she called for her children, and gave them her 
blessing, and told them that she had read with comfort 
the mark that was set in their forheads, and was glad 
to see them with her there, and that they had kept 
their garments so white. Lastly, she bequeathed to 
the poor that little she had, and commanded her sons 
and daughters to be ready against the messenger 
should come for them. 

When she had spoken these words to her guide, and 



364 CHRISTIANA PREPARES TO GO. 

to her children, she called for Mr. Valiant-for-Truth, 
and said unto him, Sir, you have in all places showed 
yourself true-hearted ; be faithful unto death, and my 
King will give you a crown of life, Rev., ii., 10. I 
would also entreat you to have an eye to my children ; 
and if at any time you see them faint, speak comfort- 
ably to them. For my daughters, my sons 1 wives, 
they have been faithful, and a fulfilling of the promise 
upon them will be their end. But she gave Mr. Stand- 
fast a ring. 

Then she called for old Mr. Honest, and said of 
him, " Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no 
guile ! " John, i., 47. — Then said he, I wish you a fair 
day when you set out for Mount Sion, and shall be 
glad to see that you go over the river dry-shod. But 
she answered, Come wet, come dry, I long to be gone ; 
for however the weather is in my journey, I shall have 
time enough when I come there to sit down and rest 
me and dry me. 

Then came in that good man Ready-to-Halt to see 
her. So she said to him, Thy travel hitherto has been 
with difficulty ; but that will make thy rest the sweeter. 
Watch and be ready ; for at an hour when ye think 
not, the messenger may come. 

After him came Mr. Despondency and his daughter 
Much- Afraid, to whom she said, You ought, with thank- 
fulness, forever to remember your deliverance from 
the hands of Giant Despair, and out of Doubting- 
Castle. The effect of that mercy is that you are 
brought with safety hither. Be ye watchful, and cast 
away fear; be sober, and hope to the end. 

Then she said to Mr. Feeble-Mind, Thou wast deliv- 
ered from the mouth of Giant Slay-Good, that thou 
mightest live in the light of the living, and see thy 



CHRISTIANA PASSES THE RIVER. 365 

King with comfort. Only I advise thee to repent of 
thine aptness to fear and doubt of his goodness, before 
he sends for thee ; lest thou shouldst, when he comes, be 
forced to stand before him for that fault with blushing. 

Now the day drew on that Christiana must be gone. 
So the road was full of people to see her take her 
journey. But behold, all the banks beyond the river 
were full of horses and chariots, which were come 
down from above to accompany her to the city gate. 
So she came forth, and entered the river, with a beckon 
of farewell to those that followed her. The last words 
that she was heard to say were, I come, Lord, to be 
with thee and bless thee ! So her children and friends 
returned to their place, for those that waited for Chris- 
tiana had carried her out of their sight. So she went 
and called, and entered in at the gate with all the cere- 
monies of joy that her husbancf Christian had entered 
with before her. 

At her departure the children wept. But Mr. Great- 
Heart and Mr. Valiant played upon the well-tuned 
cymbal and harp for joy. So all departed to their 
respective places. 

In process of time, there came a post to the town 
again, and his business was with Mr. Readv-to-Halt. 
So he inquired him out, and said, I am come from Him 
whom thou hast loved and followed, though upon 
crutches ; and my message is to tell thee that he ex- 
pects thee at his table to sup with him in his kingdom, 
the next day after Easter; wherefore prepare thyself 
for this journey. Then he also gave him a token that 
he was a true messenger, saving, " I have broken thy 
golden bowl, and loosed thy silver cord," Eccles., 
xii., 6. 

After this Mr. Ready-to-Halt called for his fellow- 



366 MR. READY-TO-HALT PASSES THE RIVER. 

pilgrims, and told them, saying, I am sent for, and 
God shall surely visit you also. So he desired Mr. 
Valiant to make his will. And because he had nothing 
to bequeath to them that should survive him but his 
crutches, and his good wishes, therefore thus he said, 
These crutches I bequeath to my son, that shall tread 
in my steps, with a hundred warm wishes that he may 
prove better than I have been. Then he thanked Mr. 
Great-Heart for his conduct and kindness, and so 
addressed himself to his journey. When he came to 
the brink of the river he said, Now I shall have no 
more need of these crutches, since yonder are chariots 
and horses for me to ride on. The last words he was 
heard to say were, Welcome life ! So he went his 
way. 

After this Mr. Feeble-Mind had tidings brought him 
that the post sounded fiis horn at his chamber-door. 
Then he came in, and told him, saying, I am come to 
tell thee that thy Master hath need of thee, and that 
in a very little time thou must behold his face in bright- 
ness. And take this as a token of the truth of my 
message: " Those that look out of the windows shall 
be darkened, 11 Eccles., xii., 3. Then Mr. Feeble-Mind 
called for his friends, and told them what errand had 
been brought unto him, and what token he had 
received of the truth of the message. Then he said, 
Since I have nothing to bequeath to any, to what pur- 
pose should I make a will? As for my feeble mind, 
that I will leave behind me, for that I shall have no 
need of in the place whither I go, nor is it worth be- 
stowing upon the poorest pilgrims ; wherefore, when I 
am gone, I desire that you, Mr. Valiant, would bury it 
in a dunghill. This done, and the day being come on 
which he was to depart, he entered the river as the 



MR. FEEBLE-MIND AND DESPONDENCY DEPART. 367 

rest. His last words were, Hold out, faith and 
patience ! So he went over to the other side. 

When days had many of them passed away Mr. 
Despondency was sent for ; for a post was come, and 
brought this message to him : Trembling man ! these 
are to summon thee to be ready with the King by the 
next Lord's day, to shout for joy for thy deliverance 
from all thy doubtings. And, said the messenger, 
that my message is true, take this for a proof; so he 
gave him a grasshopper to be a burden unto him, 
Eccles., xii., 5. 

Now Mr. Despondency's daughter, whose name was 
Much-Afraid, said, when she heard what was done, that 
she would go with her father. Then Mr. Despondency 
said to his friends, Myself and my daughter, you know 
what we have been, and how troublesomely we have 
behaved ourselves in every company. My will and my 
daughter's is, that our desponds and slavish fears be 
by no man ever received, from the day of our depart- 
ure, forever ; for I know that after my death they will 
offer themselves to others. For to be plain with you, 
they are ghosts which we entertained when we first 
began to be pilgrims, and could never shake them off 
after; and the^will walk about, and seek entertain- 
ment of the pilgrims : but for our sakes, shut the doors 
upon them. When the time was come for them to 
depart, they went up to the brink of the river. The 
last words of Mr. Despondency were, Farewell, 
night; welcome, day! His daughter went through 
the river singing, but none could understand what 
she said. 

Then it came to pass a while after, that there was a 
post in the town that inquired for Mr. Honest. So he 
came to the house where he was, and delivered to his 



368 HONEST AND VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH DEPART. 

hand these lines : Thou art commanded to be ready 
against this day sevennight, to present thyself before 
thy Lord, at his Father's house. And for a token that 
my message is true, " All the daughters of music shall 
be brought low, 11 Eccles., xii., 4. Then Mr. Honest 
called for his friends, and said unto them, I die, but 
shall make no will. As for my honesty, it shall go 
with me; let him that comes after be told of this. 
When the day that he was to be gone was come, he 
addressed himself to go over the river. Now the river 
at that time overflowed its banks in some places ; but 
Mr. Honest, in his lifetime, had spoken to one Good- 
Conscience to meet him there, the which he also did, 
and lent him his hand, and so helped him over. The 
last words of Mr. Honest were, Grace reigns ! So he 
left the world. 

After this it was noised abroad that Mr. Valiant-for- 
Truth was sent for by a summons, by the same post as 
the other, and had this for a token that the summons 
was true, " That his pitcher was broken at the foun- 
tain, 11 Eccles., xii., 6. When he understood it, he 
called for his friends, and told them of it. Then said 
he, I am going to my Father's ; and though with great 
difficulty I have got hither, yet now I dfc not repent me 
of all the trouble I have been at to arrive where I am. 
My sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my 
pilgrimage, and my courage and skill to him that can 
get it. My marks and scars I carry with me, to be a 
witness for me that 1 have fought His battles who will 
now be my rewarder. When the day that he must go 
hence was come, many accompanied him to the river- 
side, into which as he went, he said, "Death, where 
is thy sting? 11 And as he went down deeper, he said, 
"Grave, where is thy victory ?"• 1 Cor., xv., 55. So 



standfast's last words. 369 

he passed over, and all the trumpets sounded for him 
on the other side. 

Then there came forth a summons for Mr. Standfast. 
This Mr. Standfast was he whom the pilgrims found 
upon his knees in the Enchanted Ground. And the 
post brought it him open in his hands ; the contents 
whereof were, that he must prepare for a change of 
life, for his Master was not willing that he should be 
so far from him any longer. At this Mr. Standfast 
was put into a muse. Nay, said the messenger, you 
need not doubt of the truth of my message ; for here 
is a token of the truth thereof, " Thy wheel is broken 
at the cistern," Eccles., xii., 6. Then he called to him 
Mr. Great-heart, who was their guide, and said unto 
him, Sir, although it was not my hap to be much in your 
good company in the days of my pilgrimage, yet since 
the time I knew you, you have been profitable to me. 
When I came from home, I left behind me a wife and 
five small children ; let me entreat you, at your return, 
(for I know that you go and return to your Master's 
house, in hopes that you may yet be a conductor to 
more of the holy pilgrims,) that you send to my fam- 
ily, and let them be acquainted with all that hath and 
shall happen unto me. Tell them moreover of my 
present blessed condition, and of my happy arrival at 
the Celestial City. Tell them also of Christian and 
Christiana his wife, and how she and her children came 
after her husband. Tell them also what a happy end 
she made, and whither she is gone. I have little or 
nothing to send to my family, unless it be my prayers 
and tears for them ; of which it will suffice that you 
acquaint them, if peradventure they may prevail. 

When Mr. Standfast had thus set things in order, 
and the time being come for him to haste him away, ht 



37° standfast's address from the river. 

also went down to the river. Now there was a great 
calm at that time in the river, wherefore Mr. Standfast, 
when he was about half way in, stood a while, and 
talked to his companions that had waited upon him 
thither. And he said, This river hath been a terror to 
many ; yea, the thoughts of it also have often fright- 
ened me ; but now methinks I stand easy ; my foot is 
fixed upon that on which the feet of the priests that 
bare the ark of the covenant stood while Israel went 
over Jordan, Josh., iii., 17. The waters indeed are to 
the palate bitter, and to the stomach cold; yet the 
thoughts of what I am going to, and of the convoy 
that wait for me on the other side, lie as a glowing coal 
at my heart. I see myself now at the end of my jour- 
ney ; my toilsome days are ended. I am going to see 
that head which was crowned with thorns, and that 
face which was spit upon forme. I have formerly lived 
by hearsay and faith ; but now I go where I shall live 
by sight, and shall be with Him, in whose company I 
delight myself. I have loved to hear my Lord spoken 
of; and wherever I have seen the print of his shoe in 
the earth, there I have coveted to set my foot too. 
His name has been to me a civet-box ; yea, sweeter 
than all perfumes. His voice to me has been most 
sweet, and his countenance I have more desired than 
they that have most desired the light of the sun. His 
words I did use to gather for my food, and for anti- 
dotes against my faintings. He has held me, and 
hath kept me from mine iniquities ; yea, my steps have 
been strengthened in his way. 

Now while he was thus in discourse his countenance 
changed ; his strong man bowed under him ; and after 
he had said, Take me, for I come unto thee, he ceased 
to be seen of them. 



THE AUTHOR'S FAREWELL. 37 1 

But glorious it was to see how the upper region was 
filled with horses and chariots, with trumpeters and 
pipers, with singers and players on stringed instru- 
ments, to welcome the pilgrims as they went up, and 
followed one another in at the beautiful gate of the 
city. 

As for Christiana's children, the four boys that Chris- 
tiana brought, with their wives and children, I did not 
stay where I was till they were gone over. Also since 
I came away, I heard one say that they were yet alive, 
and so would be for the increase of the church, in that 
place where they were, for a time. 

Should it be my lot to go that way again, I may give 
those that desire it an account of what I here am silent 
about : meantime I bid my reader 

FAREWELL. 



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